
'^ ,'^^-^ O^ ^ '<-^ 






AS I REMEMBER THEM 



By C. C. GOODWIN 

Author of The Comstoclc Club, The Wedge of Gold, etc. 
Formerly Editor of the Virginia City, Nev., Enterprise 



PUBLISHED BY A SPECIAL COMMITTEE OF THE 
SALT LAKE COMMERCIAL CLUB 

C, N. STREVELL, Chairman 
M. H. WALKER, Treasurer 
JOSEPH E. CAINE, Sccrelary 
W. \V. ARMSTRONG 
H I. A CUl.MKR 



SALT LAKE CITY. UTAH 

191. 1 



niwjfkD 






Copyrig-ht. 1013, by C. C. Goodwin. 






PREFACE. 

Williin these payes are some pen sketches of men. 

Some in their hves, to hh'nded eyes, were just plain people, 
who did their wi^rk here noiselessly and fell asleep. 

Some were men whose learning ranged over every lield, 
whose brows had been sealed by the signet of genius, whose 
lips and pens were tipped by celestial hre. 

Some were heroes who held their fortunes, their sacred 
honor, life itself as nothing when a ])rinciple was to be vindi- 
cated. 

Some were masterful souls, industrial kings, state and em- 
pire builders who went out exultingly to the conquest of the 
wilderness, to storm its mountains for their treasures, to drive 
back the frontier, to chase away the frown of the desert, t(j 
blaze and smooth the trails, that full enlightenment — or un- 
soiled sandals might come. 

Some were absorbed in drying the tears from the cheeks 
of sorrow and in proclaiming the goodness of God. 

These come back to me as I recall them to make me forget 
the roll and roar of the onsweeping world. They have come 
across the gulf of the years, come with the old exulted step 
and old sparkle in their eyes an<l haxe hailed me with the old 
joyous voices, from which not one cadence is lost. Those 
voices are sweeter than harp or flute. I cannot catch and hold 
the voices or the music, but from time to time I have made 
rude sketches of the stately souls. To make clear how I have 
been favored, with all good will these sketches are presented. 

ClIAKLES C.XRROLL GoODWIN. 



CONTENTS, 



Gi-:ni:r.\l J(iiin A. Sutter 
General John Ridwell 
Senator David C. Broderil k 
Junr.E Joseph Baldwin 
L ELAND Stanford 
The Old Time Miners 
Theodore D. Judah 
Charlie Fairfax 
The Gentleman from Piki 
Colonel E. D. Raker 
Darius Ogden Mills 
Ed. C. Marshall 
Collis p. Huntington 
Judge Charles H. Rrvan 
The Old San Francisco 
The Sacramento Union 
Newton Booth 
j. E. "Lucky" Baldwin 
"Jim" Gillis 
William Lent 

'1^)D Rom N SON 

\y. C. Ralston 
George C. Goriiam 
Thomas Starr King 
The Old Boys . 
William Sharon 
Col. D.wid T. Buel 
William IL Cl.\gget 
William AL Stewart 
"Red" Frank Wheeler 
Jamfs W. Nye 
John W. Mackay 
Clarence King 
JuDc-.E B. C. Whitman 
James G. Fair 
« RoLLiN M. Daggett . 
I'rofessor Frank Stewart 
Governor Luther R. P>radlfy 
\iatnza TTayward 
I Tarry L Thornton 



CONTENTS 



"Dan De Ouille" 

Colonel Robert H. Taylor 

The Old Stage Drivers 

Judge Alexander Baldwin 

Professor Joshua Clayton 

Adolph Sutro 

Harry Mighels 

Samuel L. Clemens — "Mark Twain' 

Judge R. S. Mesick 

General P. E. Conn(h< 

Marcus Daly 

John Atchison 

Judge J. B. Roseborough 

John Percival Jones 

Allen Green Campbell 

A. C. Cleveland 

"Joggles" Wright 

Moses Kirkpatrick 

"Zinc" Barnes 

General Thaddeus H. Stanton 

Colonel William Montague Ferr\ 

Colonel Wilbur F. Sanders 

John O. Packard 

Colonel A. C. Ellis 

Richard Mackintosh 

William S. Godbe 

General Alexander McDowell McCook 

E. H. Harriman 

Hon. O. J. Salisbury 

Hon. George W. Cassidy 

Colonel George L. Shoup 

Harvey W. Scott 

Senator Ed. Wolcott 

Joaquin Miller 

The Old Column 



213 
218 
223 
231 
236 
240 
245 
250 
260 
265 
270 
276 
279 
283 
289 
293 
299 
304 
307 
311 
316 
326 
329 
332 
333 
336 
338 
342 
346 
348 
350 
352 
354 
356 
357 



AS I REiMEMBER THEM. 



GENERAL JOHN A. SUTTER. 

Wl 1 MX 1 saw him last he was on his "Hock h'ann"" 
on Feather I\i\cr. ahmit furty miles north of Sac- 
ramento. 1 le had built a house there and cultivated 
a ])ortion of his farm. 'Jdie hou.se was of adobe, the walls were, 
I think, three feet thick, as he explained that the house mii;ht 
keep out the heat in summer and the cold in winter, lie must 
have been at that time .something- over fifty years of age, prob- 
ably fifty-three. He was not tall, but heavy, weighing perhaps 
200 pounds. His face was very strong I)ut gentle as a woman's, 
his voice was soft and low. He impressed me as one who 
had finished his work, as one who, when his bark had been 
sailing smoothly, was caught by a tidal wave and tossed ashore, 
bruised and half shattered. 

Save the resolute face there was no sign of the tireless 
energy and .dauntless endurance and courage that had trans- 
ferred him from a little hamlet in Germany to the golden coast 
before it was known that any gold was there, and had caused 
him to beat back both the barbarian and the savage, plant a 
houie there and begin the transformation of tlie land. 

He gave us gentle but cordial welcome, offered us all the 
hios])italities of his home, and the tender was that of the front- 
iersman, which, without words, seemed to be saying: "Every- 
thing is yours: why wait for formalities? Yoti are welcome 
guests and that makes you masters while you stay." 

But under that gentle exterior the soul of a hero had its 
tenement. We knew that before we saw him first, and for the 
moment his appearance was a little disappointing, and I .said to 
my brother, who was with me : "He impresses me with a feel- 
ing that his high soul is taking its afternoon siesta." For I 
knew that the (juiet man had braved e\cry danger, coming in 
a frail craft over all the nn'ghty stretch of storms and waves; 



8 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

that he with a httle band of followers, planted the first pioneer 
outpost, built a rude fort for a defense against the wild beast 
and savage man ; that there, the pioneer of pioneers, he laid the 
foundation of what he fondly hoped would become a glorified 
state ; with dauntless courage when necessary, maintained his 
place, and then, with his gentleness and justice, drew to him 
those who had been enemies, and showed them how much 
smoother were the paths of peace and progress than the stony 
trails of violence and cruelty. 

He honestly acquired great grants of land, enough for an 
earldom ; he built a rude little mill and in the race from that 
mill the first golden sands of California were washed. He was 
then forty-eight years old, and his shadow was turning to the 
east. He was yet hale and strong, but his energies had never 
been called into a direct competition with the sharp men who, 
a little later, came in a flood, began to work upon his generosity 
and whatever of cupidity he had. His estate began to shrink and 
before he realized it, he was poor. Whatever his thoughts 
were they did not disturb his stately serenity ; he was a trained 
soldier; indifferent to danger and hardships, and had been all 
his life, and no false friends could rob him of his self-respect or 
lofty dignity. 

He knew from the first that the house he had built was 
the first temple to civilization that had been upreared in that 
fair land; that in the chronology of California all time would 
date from him and his work. He had come there as the 
Patriarch of the region ; the advance agent of civilization, and 
enlightenment; that every step that progress would hereafter 
make, every triumph that history might record for the golden 
state, the refrain of every speech, the word picture of every 
glorious advance, would still be incomplete unless it included 
the explanation that it had all dated from the work of the 
stalwart old pioneer who first planted the flag of freedom on 
California soil; built the first real home, the first rude temple 
to justice, and whose heroic soul was the guardian of all. until 
other brave souls came to hail him as the Pioneer of Pioneers, 
and to help pick up and carry on the work needed to round a 
elorious state into form. 



GENERAL JOHN BIDWELL. 

OX the scroll which holds the names of the west-coast 
Pioneers, the name of John Ijidwell should he close to 
the top of the stalwart list. In many respects his career 
was most wonderful. 

When a hoy he traveled three hundred miles on foot 
throu«;h the wilderness of Ohio and Indiana to ohtain some 
rudiments of an education at a little old ])rimitive academy. 
When nineteen years of age. he drifted down the Ohio from 
Cincinnati to the Mississippi, up the Mississippi to the Mis- 
souri, up the Missouri to Platte county, where he settled down 
and taught school ior two winters. 

The call of the w-ild had always heen in his ears. He 
one day met a man who had heen to the west coast, who told 
Ridwell of the wonders heyond the plains and the mountains. 
11ie result was that a little company was fitted out and started 
west. This was in 1S41. liidwell had a yoke of oxen, a tlint- 
lock musket, a pair of old-time pistols and a little food. 

The company had no map or chart; knew nothing of the 
route they were to travel except to go west. They wandered 
on. reached the Rockies, worked their way to ahout w'here 
(iranger in Wyoming is. pushed through the pass to Soda 
Springs ; then continued west and south to the north end of 
Great Salt Lake, then zigzagged into the Humholdt valley; 
followed it to the sink, then hore across to the Carson river, 
and found their way through the hills to Walker river, then 
scaled the almost impassahle heights which surround the 
source of the Walker. They had hecome divide<l and in 
searching one morning for his last ox, Bidwell came upon 
the hig trees, the first white man to ever see them, and stum- 
bled his way down the Stanislaus river to the San Joacpiin. 

Of all the feats of all the pioneers this was the very 
greatest. There is nothing like it told in history. It could 
have heen only through the mercy of God that it was accf^n- 
plished. 

2 



10 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

It was enough to break the heart of any man thrust out on 
that awful waste; no trail to follow; animals growing weaker 
and weaker as the difficulties of the journey increased; the 
grass giving way at last and nought in view save the desert, 
and finally the scaling of the Sierras, at a point which men 
have ever since evaded, so terrible is it, that how that little 
company survived it without growing daft, is a marvel that 
grows in magnitude the more it is studied. The horror of the 
day, the terrible silence of the night, the awful fatigue, the 
impossibility of return, the hopelessness of trying to advance; 
all make of the journey one of the most striking achievements 
of the ages. 

Bidwell found General Sutter, who had reached Cali- 
fornia two years in advance of him. He was Sutter's lieu- 
tenant for two years, and especially had charge of the Hock 
farm. When Fremont came, in 1843, he was Fremont's guide, 
told him of the big trees and of Salt Lake, and when the 
order came to Fremont that, in the event of war, he was to try 
to take and hold California, Bidwell became a soldier. After 
the war, Bidwell found what is now Bidwell's Bar, on Feather 
River. He made a fortune and then purchased Rancho Chico, 
twenty-two thousand acres of the richest body of land in the 
Sacramento valley. 

He carried east the block of gold quartz that was Cali- 
fornia's contribution to the Washington monument; set the 
machinery in motion that drew William H. Seward in the 
senate to advocate the admission of California, and, returning, 
began not only the cultivation of his farm, but established a 
primitive experiment station and had at one time on this land 
four hundred food and flower varieties growing. This he 
pursued all his life. He gave me, in August, 1889, on his 
table on the Chico Rancho, a watermelon of his own "breed- 
ing" which was as yellow as a muskmelon, and sweeter than 
a concert of nightingales. 

He was sent to Congress, and there all his work was for 
progress. In 1892 he was nominated by the Prohibitionists 
in National convention at Cincinnati for President, and 
received the highest vote ever given a prohibition candidate. 



GENERAL JOHN BIDWELL. 11 

In the stirring years from 1860 to 1865 his was one of the 
loudest voices in California for the Union. His work was 
incessant during the sixty years he Hved in California. He 
built seventy-five miles of the road over the Sierras from 
Chico toward Susanville ; put on a stage line to run between 
Chico and Boise City, and stocked the whole line with his 
own horses. 

A\'hen eighty years of age he went with an employee to 
the woods to select some timbers for a special use. He cut 
off a log that was in the way and was seized with heart failure. 
He was carried home, and on the same afternoon sank into 
a slumber which deepened into his last sleep an hour later. 

When I last saw him he was sixty-nine years of age, but 
he was as erect as a man of twenty. He was six feet high, 
and a stalwart — a most impressive personage; a stalwart, but 
genial and generous. He had then toiled all his life, had 
suffered hardships almost unendurable, but had triumphed 
over all and had made for himself a high name, simply through 
his toil and his force of character, his high motives and his 
irrepressible energy. 

He was a Pioneer of Pioneers, a patriot, a statesman, a 
soldier, and lived a long life without fear and without reproach. 



SENATOR DAVID C. BRODERICK. 

I HESITATE about giving my impressions of Senator 
Broderick, for fear that I cannot join him with the age 
he hved in and picture the memory of him as it ought 
to be seen by men hving now. 

He Hved a laborious Hfe all through his boyhood and 
early youth and a life mostly devoid of the help of schools. 
He became a fire chief in New York City as naturally as the 
foremost savage of his tribe ever gravitated to the chieftain- 
ship. The fire department of New York City in his days had 
some very sturdy men as members, whom no one could con- 
trol who was not as resolute as the best of them and a natural 
master of men. 

But none disputed Broderick's perfect fitness for the 
place, and he held it until he was ready to sail for California. 
That he had been nursing higher hopes was plain from a 
remark he made on the eve of sailing. "When will you come 
back, chief?" asked one of his fire company. "When I am 
elected United States senator from California," was his reply. 
After looking around a few days in California he decided 
that a man would he helpless there without money. And he 
wanted to begin his work quickly. He never drank, Ijut he 
opened a saloon. At the same time he began dealing in real 
estate, and made a little fortune in two years. Meanwhile he 
had become acc[uainted with all the leading men of San Fran- 
cisco and many in the state outside. In that time and all the 
rest of his life he devoted all his leisure to study. After his 
work closed for the day he devoted half his nights to the study 
of the sciences, he devoured all the English classics, and they 
were not merely skimmed over, but studied line by line until 
it became a habit with him to analyze all he read. 

He began to mix in politics and began to lead. He was 
a massive commanding- man, but his voice was gentle, save 
when aroused ; and there was a special magnetism about him. 
It was said of him, "Do not let Broderick shake your hand. 



SP:NAT0R DAVID C. BRODERILK. 13 

liiok in your eyes and talk to yon for a (juarter of an honr, 
or !ie will hoodoo y(in. and you will be his sla\e for life."' 

Perhaps his rulini;' trait was his absolute sincerity. .\ 
statement of fact by him was never doubted, a ])romise from 
him was to be counted upon implicitly for all time. His influ- 
ence rapidly widened; he bemrin to be a distinct factor in the 
politics of California. l>ut he was not nearly i)erfect. lie 
C(iuld rule men. but he had ne\er learned to (|uite rule him- 
self, h'rom the hrst he had dexoted friends and a good many 
enemies, and if he heard that some one had denounced or' 
l)etra}ed him. he had not the philosophy to pass it by as a 
mere incident, but at once l)ecame furious in his anathemas. 
Anil }et he was always generous and ready to lix up a dif- 
ference and was often imposed ui)on by a feigned apology. 

He steadily grew in power and began to make public 
Idresses. He was never a winsome public speaker. He 
-imply talked cold facts in a way to convince men. He could 
excoriate an opponent, but his words were wielded as a 
cleaver is wielded : and to hear him after a man like Col. I'aker 
or Xed Marshall or McDougal or any of plenty more who 
talked in those days, was a disappointment. His success lay in 
])ersonal contact with men. in his words, his voice and smile 
and the magnetism of his mere presence. 

When at last the Democratic party was rent asunder in 
he state, and Broderick was elected United States senator by 
;iie Free Soil wing of the party, then he became in a sense 
a marked man. So strong was he that he was not only elected, 
but he dictated who else should l)e elected, and the man who 
was elected pledged Broderick that he should dictate the pa- 
tronage in California. But when the two senators reached 
Washington, his colleague forgot some of his promises, and 
the men who controlled the President and the Senate at that 
time had no use for a Senator whom they declared had deserted 
and divided the Democratic party in the (^lolden State. Of 
course Broderick was savage in his denunciation of all this 
and of the men who had betrayed him and the real Democracv 
in California. The shadow of the coming war was growing 
tlarker and darker in the cast, and it was easv to see what a 



14 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

power Broderick would be should a crisis be precipitated. 
The man whom Broderick had especially antagonized was 
Senator Gwin who had been a senator from the birth of the 
state ; who was a superior man and one whom all the southern 
states indorsed and stood by. 

But he was an old man, and his friends would not permit 
him to challenge Broderick; they were afraid of results. But 
Judge David S. Terry, who had been a warm friend of Brod- 
erick's, went off with the "Chivalry" wing when the party 
divided, and one night made a speech in Sacramento in which 
he animadverted severely on the course of Senator Broderick. 
Next morning, while at breakfast in the public dining room 
of a San Francisco hotel, Broderick came upon a copy of the 
speech, read it, and in his impetuous way said he had thought 
that there was one honest man on the supreme bench of the 
state, but he would have to give it up. 

It was a mere momentary ebullition of impatience, and 
nothing would ever have come of it had not a lawyer named 
Purley been at the same table and, overhearing the remark, 
hotly declared that Judge Terry was a special friend of his and 
he would not permit any such remark to be made about Judge 
Terry in his hearing. 

But Broderick would not quarrel with him, intimating his 
belief that Judge Terry hardly needed a champion of Purley's 
caliber. 

The incident, with elaborations, was reported to Terry, 
who promptly resigned his judgeship and sent a challenge to 
Broderick. 

The late summer political campaign was at its height. 
Broderick was out on the stump and had promised to visit 
many towns. When the challenge reached him he merely 
replied that until his engagements were filled, he would not 
consider any matter of that kind. So soon, however, as the 
campaign was over, he accepted the challenge. There was 
much insistence at the time that unfair advantage was taken 
of Broderick's unfamiliarity with dueling : the right statement 
would have been that every proper advantage was taken by 
Terrv and his friends. When on the field McKibben merely 



SENATOR DAVID C. 15 RODERICK. 15 

touched Terry's breast as Brodcrick's second, while Calhoun 
Benhani, Terry's second, roughly went over Broderick's cloth- 
ing- as though suspicious that he had on a suit of armor. Then 
the pistols used were hair-trigger pistols, something Broderick 
was altogether unfamiliar with, so when the word was given 
Broderick had hardly begun to raise his weapon when it went 
off, the bullet striking the ground only a few feet from his 
hand. Then Terry took careful aim and fired. The bullet 
struck Broderick in the right breast, wounded the right lung, 
passed under the sternum, then foUow-ed the ribs over the 
heart and went out under the left arm. 

True to the savage in his nature, Terry exclaimed, "I shot 
an inch too far to the right." Broderick stood for an instant, 
then turned half round and sank to the ground. He lived 
sixty-two hours. No death in California had ever produced 
half the sorrow and anger that his did. His friends declared 
that while it was compassed according to the barbarous forms 
of the code. ne\ertheless, it was a premeditated murder ; that 
there had been no more provocation in Broderick's words than 
there had been in Terry's speech ; that the speech w^as made 
merely to provoke Broderick to say something in quick indig- 
nation which would supply a lame excuse on which to challenge 
him. and that Terry, who really had no cause of quarrel with 
Broderick, was selected, because he was a practiced duelist, 
and when aroused had no more sensibilities than a grizzly. 

The shot that killed Broderick was in truth the first shot 
of the great war. After that the line of demarcation between 
northern and southern men was more closely drawn ; northern 
men grew more and more aggressive ; it increased further the 
division made when Penn Johnson killed the quiet, gentle, gen- 
erous and blameless Furgeson, in another duel a few months 
previous. When Broderick was killed. Col. E. D. Baker pro- 
nounced the eulogy at his funeral, and Rome was not half so 
stirred by Antony's speech over Cc-esar as were the men who 
listened that day to Col. Baker. 

As he arose and stretched out his arms over the casket 
in which Broderick's body lay, his opening words were: "Men 



16 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

of California, behold your senator." In an instant half that 
immense assembly were sobbing like grieved children. 

Then he pictured the great soul that had fled, its perfect 
truthfulness, its devotion to duty, its courage, its scorn of all 
that was base, untrue and unclean; its perfect ideal of Ameri- 
can manhood and citizenship ; its generosity and power ; how 
without any early advantages he had fought and won for him- 
self a place among the highest and so bore himself that they 
were glad to hail him as their peer, and how at last he had 
fallen a martyr to those who were gathering to perpetuate the 
slave power under our holy flag. The effect was indescribable, 
and when, in closing, he said : "But the last word must be 
spoken; the imperious mandate of Death must be fulfilled. 
Thus, O brave heart, we bear thee to thy rest. Thus, sur- 
rounded by tens of thousands, we bear thee to the equal grave. 
As in life no other voice among us so rang in trumpet blasts 
upon the ears of freemen, so in death its echoes will reverberate 
amid our mountains and valleys until truth and valor cease to 
appeal to the human heart. Good friend! true hero! hail and 
farewell !" The response was the sobbing of thousands of 
strong men. 

Broderick's death was well described by Judge Dwinelle, 
a few words of which we recall : 

"When one goes forth like Broderick in the maturity of 
his manhood; in the fulness of his powers, in the ripeness of 
his intellect ; in the perfection of his moral discipline, hoping 
so much himself, and of whom so much was hoped — when 
such an one lies down forever upon his bloody couch, w^e are as 
unreconciled as the husband over the grave of his first love ; as 
inconsolable as the mother over the corpse of her first-born." 

Men's eyes were blinded then. Fate was setting the stage 
for the great tragedy, the mighty acts of which were so soon 
to be called ; there was no music and all the lights were turned 
low. 



JUDGE JOSEPH BALDWIN. 

Flv()Al the earliesl days Judge iJaldwin was one of ihe 
ablest lawyers in California, one of the ablest of that 
grand array of lawyers on the Comstock. Then he had 
distinct attributes of his own. He had a sense of humor that 
was contagious and enchanting. His "Flush Times in Ala- 
bama" had fun enough on every page to build a comic opera 
up around. It is still a standard work among the old race of 
men who recall how things were loefore great wealth came tv 
the country and when men lived on ti lower, gentler plane, and 
with no fame as the nwncrs of vast wealth, had hearts too big 
for narrow human breasts. But there was no bitterness in his 
soul, no malice, and deep down he had mastered all life's prob- 
lems with no worse result than to share the sorrows of his fel- 
low men and to shield, so far as he could, their frailties. 

He was intensely southern; he belie\ed in his state and 
section with all the fervor of his genial and generous nature, 
but he was intellectually honest and his perceptions acute, and 
with a quick intuition he measured the worth of men, and in 
judging them forgot where either he or they were born, and 
estimated only what they were when he met them. 

When he went to the supreme bench of California, there 
were men who, because they did not understand his nature, had 
a fear that he did not appreciate the weight of the duties he 
was undertaking. 

Of the problems which confronted the supreme court of 
California at the time, we can best get an idea from Judge 
P>ald win's own words. He said: 

"California w^as then, as ncnv, in the development of her 
multiform physical resources. The judges w^ere as much pio- 
neers of law as the people of settlement. It is safe to say that 
even in the experience of new countries hastily settled by hetero- 
geneous crowds of strangers from all countries, no such e.\am- 
ple of legal and judicial difficulties was ever before presented 
as has been illustrated in the historv of California. There 



18 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

was no general or common course of jurisprudence. Law 
was to be administered almost without a standard. There was 
the civil law, as adulterated or modified by Mexican provincial- 
ism, usages and habitudes, for a great part of the legislation; 
there was the common law for another part, but what that was, 
was to be decided from the conflicting divisions of any number 
of courts in America and England, and the various and diverse 
considerations of policy arising from local and other facts. 

"And then contracts made elsewhere and some of them in 
semi-civilized countries had to be interpreted here. 

"Besides, to all which may be added that large and im- 
portant interests peculiar to the state existed — mines, ditches, 
etc. — for which the courts were compelled to frame the law and 
make a system out of what was little better than chaos. 

"When, in addition, it is considered that an unprecedented 
number of contracts, and an amount of business without paral- 
lel, had been made and done in hot haste, with the utmost care- 
lessness ; that legislation was accomplished in the same way, 
and presented the crudest and most incongruous materials for 
construction ; that the whole scheme and organization of the 
government and the relation of the government and the rela- 
tion of the departments to each other, had to be adjusted by 
judicial construction — it may well be conceived what task even 
the ablest jurist would take upon himself when he assumed 
office on the supreme bench." 

He wrote the above when he had long filled that office, in 
which he grew in intellectual stature every day. 

The two crowning glories of his life were first his stain- 
less integrity, then his tireless industry. 

As a sample, there was one case in which a title had come 
down from a long before Mexican concession. A vast sum 
hung upon the decision of the case, and the records were so 
conflicting and incongruous that an hour's study of them was 
enough to make a lawyer crazy. 

At the time, Judge Baldwin knew at best but a few words 
of Spanish. 

He pondered over the case a good while. The longer he 



JUDGE JOSEPH BALDWIN. 19 

considered it, the more he thought of what a wrong an incor- 
rect decision would be, and finally his mind was made up. 

He set out for the City of Mexico witli two purposes in 
his mind : one was to learn to read Spanish, the other to go 
to the depths of the case and trace the titles up to a conclusion 
in which there could be no flaw. 

He accomplished both purposes, and Justice Stephen J. 
Field, referring to it later, declared that ''the opinion of Justice 
Baldwin in the case was without precedent for the exhaustive 
learning and research it exhibits upon the points discussed." 

It made clear as nothing else ever did. that the jolly side 
of Justice Baldwin's nature was but a by-product, that down 
deep his inner self was profound and as honest as profound, 
and that over all no higher soul ever controlled a man's life. 
He was, indeed, the very highest type of man ; whatever his 
sorrows were, he vexed no one with them ; when popular fury 
was aroused in the opening days of the great war, it was the 
cutting off for him of honors which any man might covet, espe- 
cially if, as with him, he had earned them ; but there was from 
him no repining, no change in the serenity of his nature ; 
indeed, he did not forget his natural wit even when he was 
the victim of it. 

His private life was perfect; his public life was stainless; 
he grew in men's estimation to the last. 

The brightest of "the native sons of the Golden State" 
should be delegated to make a study of Judge Baldwin's life, 
and deliver a eulogy upon it. 

If this should be done, they would realize as never before 
that "there were giants in those days." 

But that, though prepared with all fidelity, w^ould fail to 
make a picture of him to compare with the picture that is en- 
graven on the walls of the heart of any old argonaut who 
knew him, who heard his voice, who looked in his kindly eyes, 
and realized how high and true was the man every day of his 
life; in truth, above fear and above reproach, and a very bless- 
ing to all who had the honor of knowing him in the power and 
the splendor of his life. 



LELAND STANFORD. 

A STRONG man, well educated, clear-brained, brave, am- 
bitious, generous, trained to business in the eastern states, 
caught by the lure of the golden west. In the spring of 
1852. when twenty-eight years of age, he started across the 
continent driving his own team, and reached California in the 
late summer. A remark that he made to his wife on that jour- 
ney showed what direction his ideas were taking. She was 
deploring the hardships and weariness of the long journey 
when he said : 'Never mind, I will build a railroad one of 
these days for you to go back on." If we are not mistaken, his 
first venture was to open a miners' store at Alleghany City, 
to supply the placer miners in that vicinity. He was success- 
ful and later moved to Sacramento to engage in the mercan- 
tile business. His ability and character soon attracted atten- 
tion. 

From the first organization of the Republican party in 
California he was a Republican. It required some nerve to be 
a Republican in those days in California; for the Democrats 
were in full control and were very aggressive. As a rule the 
Democrats from the southern states were at the helm — for 
southern men cling together better than northern men, to 
them the word Republican was the same as abolitionist, and it 
was with mingled wrath and contempt that they always re- 
ferred to either. More than once even Col. E. D. Baker, match- 
less orator that he was, was assailed, when he essayed to speak, 
with stale eggs and anathemas. Through that Leland Stan- 
ford was open in the defense of what he held to be right, and 
no combine could cow him or daunt his nerve. In those hot 
vears he made a state reputation, though in a party that was 
hopelessly in the minority. 

The Democratic party, after a while, divided, those from 
the south clinging to the Buchanan platform, those generally 
from the north following the lines marked out by Stephen A. 
Douglas, but this only intensified the bitterness. But after 



LELAND STAXl<ORD. 21 

the Douglas and Lincoln debates in 1(S58, there bej^an to come 
a change in the sentiments of men. and when Senator Brod- 
erick was killed in the duel with Judo^e Terry and the genial, 
gentle Ferguson was killed in a duel with Penn Johnson, the 
Republicans in California grew more and more aggressive, 
thousands of old-time whigs joined their ranks and in I860 
they elected Stanford governor. He was an able executive, 
and had not the plans of the Democrats nn'scarricd there would 
have been civil war in California; and we believe that Stanford 
would have met the crisis in the same spirit that two or three 
of the war governors of the east did. 

It was understood that most of the arms in the state were 
in the ft)rtress of Alcatraz, and General Albert Sidney John- 
ston was in command. Southern men were secretly drilling 
and planning, their hope being that Johnston would do what 
Twiggs had done in Texas. 

We think it was ^IcClatchy, the owner of the Sacramento 
Bcc. who sent the secret dispatch to Washington informing 
the government of the imminent danger. General Sumner was 
sent half disguised to supercede Johnston ; the steamer with 
him on board ran to Alcatraz before going to her wharf. 
Johnston met Sumner at the landing and at Sumner's demand 
turned the command over to him. Our idea is that though 
Albert Sidney Johnston was in full sympathy with the south- 
ern cause ; though when relieved of his command of Alcatraz 
he at once resigned his federal commission, crossed the plains 
by the southern route and at once entered the service of the 
confederacy ; he never would have given up Alcatraz while 
filling that trust under the government, for away back in the 
Mexican war General Worth was asked who most nearly filled 
his ideas of a perfect soldier, and he replied : "Colonel Albert 
Sidney Johnston." 

Stanford was governor from 18f)l to 1863. Tn the mean- 
lime the building of the old Central Pacific and Union Pacific 
railroads had been inaugurated and Stanford was made pres- 
ident of the former company. Theodore Judah was the engi- 
neer who had made the preliminary surveys over the Sierras 
and declared the building of the road practical. He wanted to 



22 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

build it over the present route of the Western Pacific, up the 
north fork of Feather River, but was overruled; the argu- 
ment used at the time by the "big four" — Huntington, Hop- 
kins, Crocker and Stanford — was that with sufficient help 
from adjacent counties, from San Francisco and a possible sub- 
sidy from the government, it might be possible to push the 
road as high up as Dutch Flat, where it would connect with 
the company's wagon road to Truckee, and if the Comstock 
mines held up for two or three years, between the railroad and 
the toll road, they could all make little fortunes of $200,000 or 
$300,000 each. And let no one imagine that their thoughts 
were narrow, for they were broader than any other set of men 
east or west. 

The matter was put in the hands of Senator A. A. Sargent 
of California to see what could be obtained from Congress. 
The war was on; there was much anxiety about California and 
Nevada, for they were supplying the gold and silver which was 
the leaven of the nation's finances, and the two roads — the 
Union and Central — were given their charters and immense 
subsidies, as much to conciliate and hold the west solid for the 
Union as were the possible advantages which would come in a 
material way could the road be finished. The work done by 
Senator Sargent in that connection was superb ; years after the 
road was completed Mark Hopkins, in a public speech, declared 
that it was Sargent who made the building of the road pos- 
sible; that the company was anxious to reward him, but he 
would take nothing. 

Let no one discount the magnitude or majesty of that 
enterprise. There had been nothing more gigantic undertaken 
in our country. There have been other roads since; there 
have been finer ships to cross the Atlantic than the little car- 
avels of Columbus, but those caravels crossed first. Even 
when the locomotives touched noses at Promontory, there were 
tens of thousands of business men who said : "Yes, the road is 
finished after a fashion, but who is going to make it pay?" 

The company made it pay, but some of its methods were 
very tough. Some of its charges were outrageous ; in a 
little while the company became the controlling force in Cali- 



LELAND STANFORD. 23 

fornia politics. It directed who should be elected senators, who 
legislators, who judges; it crushed newspapers that opposed its 
methods and founded others to fight its battles. 

This must often have clashed with Leland Stanford's 
ideas of justice, but he in those days filled exactly the Lady 
Macbeth idea — what he did highly he wanted to do holily, did 
not want to play false, but yet was willing to wrongly win. 
The company's treatment of the Sacramento Unio)i was no 
more honorable and much less brave than that of buccaneers. 
The railroad ceased to be a common carrier in its hands and 
from the first was held as a private snap. 

But Stanford performed a thousand generous acts in 
those days; helped many a struggling enterprise; even in his 
play he was greatly improving the stock of horses in this coun- 
try, and he had an ambition to establish the greatest vineyard 
in the world. 

He was in truth a mighty power in California ; it is a last- 
ing pity that he could not have seen his opportunity and make 
for himself a name most revered on this coast. As it was, 
when his railroad company was much anathematized, Governor 
Stanford was sincerely revered. 

But when his faculties began to break a little a change 
came over him. He began to crave flattery more and more, 
and took up the belief that the men of California were most 
ungrateful and intent upon robbing him, who had, in his own 
thought, been so unselfishly their benefactor. His conscience 
was his compass, but he was sometimes careless about having 
the compass adjusted before sailing. 

In those days he did one act which later must have filled 
his soul with remorse, and it caused him to break the warm 
friendship which had so long existed between him and his 
partner. C. P. Huntington. A. A. Sargent wanted to be 
elected United States senator. Huntington was eager for his 
election, but a bee was in Stanford's bonnet. He seemed to 
think he wanted the place; that it would crown his career of 
success, and with his pow'er and the help of the sycophants by 
w-hom he was surrounded, he defeated the man who had made 
all his great triumphs possible. 



24 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

He was never at liome in the senate ; the fonr years he 
spent there must have been wearisome years to liim — Dead 
Sea apples that turned to ashes on his hps. 

The death of his son was a blow from which he ne\-er 
rallied. To him there never was a son like his-^he ne\'er 
could understand the justice of his taking off. He had com- 
pelled everything- to go his way for twenty years; he thought 
there was nothing he could not do or hire done, but when the 
boy sickened and grew worse and he could not command the 
means to ward off death, he realized at last that money was 
not almighty and that his imperious voice had nothing that 
could insure him, or his, one moment of time. He founded the 
great university in his son's name, and it will perpetuate both 
their names, for the halo that gathers over a great educational 
institution, as the years and centuries ebb and flow, after a 
while covers every scar on the character of its founder ; it cov- 
ers the seams of age after a while, and we can imagine in the 
distant years a great picture taking form in that institution, a 
radiant boy with his wand of gold pointing joyously up to the 
golden height whereon immortal names are inscribed in letters 
of everlasting light ; and in the background a grave woman and 
man sitting gazing there, as they were wont to here, upon the 
enthusiastic boy and smiling softly as though thinking how 
rugged was the trail up which they climbed until beyond the 
folding doors of death they found Elysian fields. 



THE OLD-TIME MINERS. 

WK ALL have, I hope, hii^h and sincere reverence for 
the Pioneers ; inr those men and women who began 
their western march ahnost three hundred years 
aq^o ; first in grotesque httle ships across tlie Atlantic, and made 
their first stopping places on the eastern shore of the ocean; 
then a httle later began to push their way against the wilder- 
i^ess and the savages; as one generation sank into the earth 
another took up the slow march, pursuing its way until the 
deep woods gave place to smiling homes all the long way 
to and beyond the Mississippi. 

Looking back we mark a few of their achievements, the 
unremitting labor of their lives; the courage that bore them 
up; the poverty that bound them around in merciless coils; 
the self-sacrifices which they accepted as a matter of course ; 
the tenacity with which they never failed to assert that their 
free citizenship should never be trenched upon ; the carrying 
with them the little red school house; the high manhood, the 
divine womanood which upheld them as they pushed their 
way, — all these and other characteristics shine out as we look 
back over the trails they blazed and mark the temples they 
upreared, and to the eyes of the minds of all Americans, they 
make a picture of enchantment, not one tint of which fades as 
the years advance and recede. 

But there came a time when the order of a hundred and 
hfty years was changed. 

Though for more than two hundred years the race hatl 
been toiling; though their heroic work had transformed a 
mighty section of the new world ; though an empire of meas- 
ureless natural w^ealth had been explored, the country was 
poor in that thing called money, the one thing that electrifies 
enterprise and provides a just reward for toil. 

There came a whisper that on the other shore of the 
continent gold had been discovered. I^his was swiftly con- 
firmed bv succeeding- news, and then the exodus beqan. 



26 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Within a few months there were tossed upon that west- 
ern shore two hundred and fifty thousand men. They were 
nearly all young men, and every state of the then union was 
represented. 

The journey had steadied and broadened them. Whether 
by the long treck across the continent, whether by lonely ships 
around Cape Horn, or through the scramble and the rush by 
the pestilential Isthmus, they all had taken on new ideas by 
the experience they had been through. 

As a rule they were all more or less home boys and the 
best of them had a full quota of provincialism. 

But this last melted away faster than it had ever before 
in any country. 

The secret was that the mothers they kissed when they 
left home were American mothers, and as the differences 
among American mothers are the differences of environment, 
it did not require long for their sons to recognize that fact. 

Many of the new comers stopped on the seashore or in 
adjacent valleys, but I am not dealing with those today. It is 
the company which never rested by the sea nor in the soft 
valleys, but hurried to the hills. For them nothing would do 
but the native gold. The art of extracting it was simple and 
quickly learned. And when at night the day's proceeds were 
panned and cleaned and weighed, the miner held it before 
his eyes and invented the phrase : "That's the stuff." 

And who were these miners? They were as a rule just 
American boys and young men. They had come from every 
field, from every school ; they were, so to speak, the nation 
looked at through the big ends of the opera class. 

All recognized that they were living in a land that had no 
government, but they got together in the different camps and 
resolved that while there was no law, there should be order, 
and that every man should be secure in what was rightly his. 

Petty criminals fought shy of those camps. Sometimes 
there were disputes over business affairs. When they could 
not be settled privately a court was quickly convened; a juror 
was never questioned about any bias or prejudice that he 
thought he entertained or whether he had formed or expressed 



Tiir: OLD-TIM !•: mixers. 27 

any opinion. He was simply asked if he could hear the case 
and decide according- to the law and evidence. If lie promised 
that, it was enoug^h. 

Some of those trials were most picturesque. Will Camp- 
hell was mining in a ravine a mile or two outside -of Downie- 
\illc. One morning three or four miners came to him where 
he was at work, and one said: "Mister, did you hack in the 
states study law?" 

Will replied that he did. Then it was explained to him 
that a big Pennsylvania Dutchman was trying to claim the 
ground that one of the boys owned, that a trial had been set for 
that afternoon, and they wanted Campbell to go to camp and 
try the case for them. Campbell replied, "All right, if one of 
you chaps will work my ground while I am gone. I will go." 
This was agreed to and Campbell went to the camp, tried and 
won the case. He told me about it later, after he had become 
an eminent lawyer and judge. 

He said: 'T was nineteen years old. I had just gradu- 
ated : all the practice T had ever had any experience in was 
in the moot courts in the law school. I did not know a vast 
amount of law, but I had brought all my gall with me to Cal- 
ifornia, and I suppose my argument that day was one calcu- 
lated to scare away a mountain lion, if he was an old and wary 
one and wished to avoid trouble. 

'T have never since experienced the self-satisfaction that 
was mine as I emerged from that room and walked out on the 
cleared space in front of the building. Many people congratu- 
lated me and I swallowed it all as though it was my due. At 
last the big Dutchman came along and said : 'Mister Campbell, 
dot vas one great speech vot you made today.' 'Ah.' I replied, 
'do you really think so. Uncle Billie?' 

" 'Yaw, I tinks so.' he said. 'It just lacked but von ding 
to make it one very great speech.' 

" 'You really think so. Uncle Billie.' T responded : 'and 
pray what did it lack?' 

" 'It lacked sense.' was the curt answer. 

"The boys heard it and it cost me all the dust I had 
mined for a week previrtus. to get out of camp. I have 



28 AS I RE^IEMBER THEM. 

heard of it from time to time ever since. But it did me lots 
of good. I have never since talked as learnedly as I did on that 
day. You see. the ordinary intellect can only stand about so 
much." 

Men who see no children for months have upon them a 
heart-hunger which men in civilization can never comprehend. 

And because of the absence of women and children, the 
wild beast in many a soul in the hills comes forth. There was 
no restraint upon them and even a quartz mill runs away some- 
times when the governor on the engine ceases to act. 

Many drank, many gambled, many were killed in quar- 
rels; many became boisterous and reckless, and lives were 
thrown away, w'hich, under the restraint of good women's 
eyes, might have made great names. It is said that the great 
Blucher of Prussia, riding over a dead-covered battlefield, 
said to an aide who was half overcome by the horror and pity 
of it : "Control yourself. General ! When the winds and the 
deep-sea surges engage in battle, the shore next morning is 
piled deep with sea weed and other debris of the storm. It 
is nature's way ; these, too, are but debris cast up by the storm 
of yesterday." 

The graves on the tops and flanks of the Sierra are still 
the marks on the shore where that debris was thrown. 

In another way character was formed there. The resource- 
fulness which out of the rude surroundings developed into high 
manhood and superb citizenship ; which with the means at hand 
accomplished mighty results ; the resolution which hid suffer- 
ing in men's own hearts ; the transition which slowly stran- 
gled the brightest hopes ever nursed by mortals until they all 
went out ; the self-sacrifices which wTre made, those making 
them wearing all the time the smile of contentment and peace, 
and giving up what was sweeter than life itself as the tired 
child drops its toys ; acts of generosity and charity to make the 
angel of mercy weep for joy, — these and kindred features 
made up the unseen tragedies that were enacted there, unseen 
but leaving their shadows on those heights. 

What was visible was the joy and enthusiasm that 
reigned. What songs were sung, what stories were told, how 



THE OLD-TIME MIXERS. 29 

\astly the vocabulary of the language was enlarged, to pro- 
duce words to fit all occasions — the echoes or the ghosts of 
them still roll like phantom drums through those hills. 

Let no one think those camps were not schools of patriot- 
ism. All the papers from the lower cities were read and re- 
read; the magazines from the east were devoured, the new lit- 
erature of California that rang out in the words of Bret Hartc. 
of "Caxton :" of La Conte ; of Barstow : of Bartlett ; of Stout : 
of Coolbrith; of O'Connell ; of Marshall, and the others, w'ere 
household words in the camps. And the letters by the semi- 
monthly steamers — why talk about patriotism ? When a letter 
comes to a young man from his mother, or from the daughter 
of some other young man's mother five thousand miles away, 
he not only loves his country but loves the stokers that fed 
the coal to the furnaces in the ship that brought the letter. 

And from among those men there grew up a race of sci- 
entists that had few instructors save as they set the hieroglyph- 
ics which nature had embossed upon the rocks and trees and 
hills, to words, and in their souls made histories of them, and 
through those histories caught the secret of the labors that had 
been going on there through the ages ; the work of the earth- 
quake, the glacier, the winds, the heat, the cold, the sunbeams 
— all the agents which the Infinite employs in rounding a world 
into form. 

Xo other study is more impressive. With everv leaf 
turned in that book of nature, the more accentuated comes the 
realization of the majesty, the mercy and the power of the 
Infinite Architect which ages before man had an existence save 
in the mind of God caused the plans to be laid and approved 
through which, when man should materialize, a field w^ould be 
ready for him where his mind and hands might find emplov- 
mcnt and where for earnest work a sure reward would be 
awaiting him : and where when he became great enough to 
understand how the work was framed and the reward pro- 
vided, he would feel like ''putting the shoes from off his feet." 
because he was standing on holy ground. 

And another character of men was developed there: 
strong men of afifairs, captains of industry, who when thev 



30 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

left the hills and entered into competition with ordinary men 
were found to be masters to take charge of any work that was 
presented, for to wrestle with the forces of nature and over- 
come the bastions and battlements which the mountains have 
upreared in their own defense, make men stronger. 

They were, even as was Jacob by his all-night wrestle with 
the Lord, strengthened by the labor, and because of it, like 
Jacob, they took on new titles among men. 

If I have made the foregoing plain, it will be seen that 
while there were miners before those first California miners, 
and while there have been miners since in many ways their 
superiors as miners, there never was before, ne\er has been 
since, just such a band as were they. 

They had no homes with tender home influences to hold 
them in check ; but they grew tenderer and more considerate of 
others because of the absence of those influences; they had no 
children of their own, but that made them fathers by adoption 
of all the world's children ; many of them were wild and reck- 
less, for there were at first no restraints upon them, no church 
spires to turn their gaze upward; they turned to trees which 
were higher than church spires, and to the sky under whose 
dim sheen they slept, and were perhaps nearer God because of 
their environments and the sentinel stars that kept solemn 
watch above them. 

With a steadfast courage they worked out their lives ; 
most of them, personally, are forgotten, but because they lived 
and toiled and kept watch that society should be kept secure 
against wrong and the flag above them be kept stainless, the 
manhood of the whole coast was exalted and the influence 
they exerted has been an ennobling one to the whole coast 
ever since. 



THEODORE D. JUDAH. 

AS THE years slowly unwound after history bej^an itb 
record, from the works of all the myriads who lived 
and died in the ancient world, seven achievements were 
separated from the rest and called the "Seven Wonders of the 
World.'' The first was the pyramids of Egypt. They were 
built by slaves to gratify the whims of kings and to make for 
those kings sepulchres, when their work should be done. The 
second was the Pharos built by Ptolemy Philadelphus to be a 
watch-tower on the Nile. The third was the hanging gardens 
of Babylon, built to gratify the pride of a king or queen. The 
f(^urth was the Temple of Diana at Ephesus, which was built 
by the Asiatic states very much as the people of Utah built 
the Salt Lake temple. It required the patient labor of thou- 
sands of men and two hundred and tw^enty years of time to 
complete it. The fifth was the statue of Jupiter at Olympia. 
altogether glorious in ivory and gold and precious stones. The 
sixth was the mausoleum which Artemesia built for the tomb 
of her husband, and the last was the colossus of Rhodes, a 
statue of brass built in honor of the sun. 

It will be noticed that none of these were to be of any 
practical use to the world except the watch-tower built by 
Ptolemy. The rest were either for tombs or in honor of the 
deities which the various nations worshiped. In our dav 
another wonder has been added to the wonders of the Old 
World. It was not for a tomb; it was not to gratify kinglv 
pride; it was not to make an ostentatious display of wealth 
that it was created. The object was to open a new highway 
for trade and to make new capitals for commerce across the 
ci^ntinent. I refer, of course, to the first Pacific railroad 
across the Sierra Nevada mountains and the deserts east o 
them. 

For a long time efforts had been made to begin some tan- 
gible work looking to the building of a transcontinental rail- 
road. Benton had advocated it; Fremont had advocated it; 



32 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

the press of California constantly agitated the subject, pointing- 
out its needs, expressing belief in its practicability, and tlie 
glory that would come with its construction. California sen- 
ators and representatives had urged the undertaking, some 
half-hearted preliminary surveys had been made, but as a whole 
the people of the country, cowed by the distance and the de- 
scriptions of the route, believed the work impossible. 

Doubters explained that even could the road be built, it 
would be impossible to manufacture rolling stock that could 
stand the strain of a three thousand mile journey. Capitalists, 
when approached, began to lock their safes. With that air 
which is apt to attach to a man who has been a long time a 
banker, they would explain that could it be possible to build the 
road, the revenues from it would not for fifty years be suffi- 
cient to pav for the lubricating fluid in the boxes of the car 
wheels. 

Then they would pull down their maps, show the great 
American desert as it was outlined ; explain that from the 
Missouri to the Pacific there was a stretch of 2,000 miles of 
arid lands, desert mountains of rock and barren sand ; then 
question the sanity or honesty of any man who seriously advo- 
cated the pursuit of such an impossibility. 

It makes one smile to think what has been done since : 
how limited was the sagacity, how impotent the capacity, how 
narrow were the horizons of those wise asses of fifty years 
ago. 

But there was one man, Theodore D. Judah, of different 
mold. He was among men what the eagle is among birds. 
His way of mounting a height was by riding up it on the 
strong wings of enthusiasm and courage, but he was careful 
to assure himself in advance that the wings were strong enough 
to make the giddy flight. 

When on the crags, no matter how rude his eyrie might 
be, he was sure of its safety, for he himself had anchored it, 
so when the hurricane was raging it was a joy for him to flap 
his strong pinions and join his defiant scream to the clamors 
of the gale. 

AX'hen the work of building the road is spoken of or 



THEODORE D. JUDAII. 33 

thought of. the gi<>ry goes to four men in Sacramento whose 
names ha\e been so closely linked with that road that all other 
l^eople are, by the great masses of men, forgotten in that con- 
nection. Rut Judah was the man who first dreamed of the 
enterprise, and followed his dream with his instruments. He 
scaled all the m(~»untain tops; he made his surveys; he worked 
year after year upon his theme. Because of him the project 
finally rounded into form. Because of him the mad was begun. 
He was a civil engineer, poor in purse, but with visions in his 
lirain sweeter than the thirst for gold. 

He built the road from Sacramento to Folsom. As he 
laid nut that hue his eyes every day stretched to the blue moun- 
tains beyond, until the idea of scaling those heights with the 
iron horse became an absorbing passion with him. So on his 
own account he laid his lines across them on three dififerent 
j routes. He followed the dream through half as man\- years as 
' Columbus did before the Italian obtained the three little ships 
and their poor fittings with which to push back from the face 
of the ocean the veil and reveal a new continent. He tried the 
rich men of San Francisco. They heard his story ; they smiled 
at his enthusiasm, but they secretly buttoned up their pockets 
; and locked their safes and said wisely to each other that the 
man was an enthusiastic lunatic. 

Judah had made the preliminary surveys and established 
that the work was practicable ; that it was but a matter of 
])luck. energy, persistence and money to construct the road. 
But months and years slipped away. 1^alk about the inertia 
of matter! Tt does not coni])are with tlie inertia of provincial 
nn'nds. or at times, with the inertia of public opinion. 

In July, 1859, the great Comstock mines east of the Sierra 
Xevadas were discovered; later the rush to that new field be- 
gan which soon swelled into a stampede. 

The men who later were the magnates of the Central Pa- 
cific road — the big four — undertook the building of a stage 
road from Dutch Flat, California, on the west flank of the 
Sierras to what is now Truckee (^n the eastern slope. Thev 
ga\e the direction of the work to Tudah. While that was in 



34 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

progress he laid the results of his investigation before the men 
who later organized a company which finally undertook the 
work. He pointed out that the plan was feasible ; that it was 
possible to scale those heights and to build the western end of 
a transcontinental line. At last he awakened enough of their 
sympathy for them to begin to help him. They intended to 
try to build the road for fifty miles to connect with the western 
terminus of the w^agon road. He begged them to take another 
route, pointed out that by taking that route 1,600 feet in ele- 
vation would be saved, but they shook their heads incredu- 
lously. They said, "Possibly we can, but such subsidies as we 
can get and by such help as we can draw to us, complete the 
road as high as Dutch Flat, and then if the Comstock mines 
hold out for a few years we can all make little fortunes." And 
while they were speaking that way, this man was in thought 
starting a train from Sacramento, seeing it scale two great 
ranges of mountains and the desert which stretched away be- 
tween these ranges and making a revolution in the world's 
commerce. In thought he saw cities spring up along the trail 
which he should blaze in the wilderness. He saw the exhaus- 
tion, the terror and the fatigue of crossing the plains taken 
away, and so while he talked strict business to the principals 
in the enterprise, and while by his skill no mistakes were made 
in estimating grades or curves, when the day's work was fin- 
ished the lullaby that he went to sleep on was the far off echo 
of the wdiistles which would blow in midcontinent before his 
work should be done. 

This work was not like the work of the ancients. It was 
a monument built to Industry. Its object was to forge ,a 
mighty link to connect with steel the two great oceans. It 
was to push the frontier back. It was, through a dreary and 
fearful wilderness, to smooth a way so that civilization might, 
with unsoiled sandals, advance along this new path and build to 
herself temples. It was to be a monument to progress which 
was to shine out on the world fairer than did the watch tower 
on the Nile ; fairer than the statue of Minerva, with its gold and 
ebony and ivory and precious stones. It was to be a notice of 
American power, much more impressive than was the statue 



THEODORE D. JUDAII. 35 

that stood at the entrance of Rhodes in honor of the sun. It 
was to herald a new epoch. 

It was to create clouds by day and pillars of fire by 
night which for all time should light the way for commerce. 
It was to be a rolling fort of defense against savages. It was 
to make possible the driving away of the frown from the repel- 
lant face of the desert, and to make it possible for fair homes 
and great cities to appear where before all had been desolation 
since the beginning of time. It was to solve new feats in en- 
gineering, and to give mankind a new notice that the earth 
and all therein are subject to the domination of royal 1)rains. 
The work has been duplicated north and south since then, but 
that does not detract in the least from the glory of the first 
achievement, and the inauguration of that glory was due, is 
due and always will be due more to T. D. Judah than to any 
other one or to any other ten men. He dreamed it out first. 
He established its practicability by his unerring instruments. 
He turned all the enthusiasm of his great nature into the work 
until he infused some cool business brains with some of the 
fervor of his energy and hope. When the first stakes were set 
he went to Congress and renewed there his impassioned argu- 
ments in favor of the project, and when the line was completed 
to Ogden, then when its success had been established, he tried 
with all his strength to bring to his associates the aid necessary 
to purchase the Union Pacific, and make a continuous line 
under one company, from the Missouri to Sacramento. He 
wore himself out, and died in the mighty work, but his life was 
spared until the road was finished, and now it is his monument. 
He needs no other. The Union Pacific company, in gratitude 
for the solid business persistence which drove west the eastern 
end of the transcontinental line, built for the Ames on the sum- 
mit of the Rockies a monument of granite. Judah needs no 
other monument but the road itself. But it would be a graceful 
thing for the company which was organized through his genius 
and carried to success bv his genius, to build to him on the 
Sierras a monument of marble. 

' He was a great man. Among men he was like Saul. He 
was taller than most of them: he was stronglv made; he was 



36 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

massive every way. He was given the enthusiasm of the poet 
and the sohcl combinations of the scientific engineer. He con- 
secrated his Hfe to the eighth wonder of the world. He saw it 
completed and then, worn ont, lay down and died. When the 
names of the strong men and the great men who found Cali- 
fornia a wilderness and then caused the transformation which 
revealed a glorified State, are called over, one after the other, 
close to the very head of the shining list should be the name of 
T. D. Judah. 

The near friends of the stalwart men who built the road 
may hold that the foregoing is a slighting of the builders' 
sagacity, public spirit and prescience. It is not so intended. 
What they did was a wonder, but it is true that at first they 
did not believe in the possibility, much less the feasibility, of 
the enterprise. When they began, their hope was to complete 
a road to Dutch Flat only. But that was far in advance of the 
opinions of the masses of men in California, almost infinitely 
in advance of the "sound thought" of the wise financiers of the 
East. 

It was all clear to Judah from the first; the splendor of it, 
the practicability of it, what it would be to native land. 

It came of the sagacity, the poetry, the patriotism of 
the man. 

He heard the far-off call and gave the command. The 
mountains were bowed down, the valleys exalted, the rolling- 
waves of the desert subdued. 

On Memorial days, when the list of the names of the mas- 
terful men of California is read, when that of Judah is reached 
the chariots of the world's commerce should be halted as the 
great name is spoken. 



CHARLIE FAIRFAX. 

I SAY "Charlie." but in truth had he gone to England and 
claimed his title, he would have been Lord Charles Fair- 
fax, for he was a lineal descendant of the House of Viuv- 
fax, and at the time he lived was entitled to be the head of the 
house, though he was born in \^*ginia and was of the third or 
fourth generation of VirginianT^Vfaxes. 

He showed his lineage in tnree or four characteristics. He 
was handsome and exery look was of a high-born race. There 
is an old belief that it requires seven generati<~)ns of colts to 
breed up from a cold-blooded dam a thoroughbred. If the 
same rule applies to men, then Charlie Fairfax had only thor- 
oughbred ancestors for quite five hundred years ; for when him- 
self he was the most absolutely natural gentleman that I ever 
saw. He had a grace of action, a natural courtesy ; a thought- 
fulness for guests and a way of making men feel that he had 
a solicitude for their well-being and happiness that could not 
be imitated by any man that T ever met. 

Behind it all he held within his breast a lion's heart, that 
no danger could appall — he was absolutely without fear. Fie 
would have ridden beside Cardigan at Balaklava, or Pickett 
at Gettysburg, and one to have seen his face would have 
thought he was on the way to a picnic. 

^^'ith these qualities it may be asked why he did not make 
himself a great name. We suspect it was because of his train- 
ing in part, and also in part certain qualities of his mind which 
made success impossible. From earliest childhood he was 
taught that he must keep his honor pure; that he must never 
fail in courage, and never for a moment forget that his ances- 
tors for many generations had all been gentlemen. 

Fie was given a good education, but slaves did the work 
around him and he never had the least business training; was 
never taught even to think of the every-day duties of life, or 
the value of money, or that the day might come when cares 
would enter his life or the need of honest work on his part 



38 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

would be a duty. He was brought up on a farm in Virginia : 
he was an expert with firearms of all kinds ; he loved to hunt 
and could lure fish from the streams, but he never held a plough 
or swung an axe — why should he? Why should he undertake 
to compete with slaves? 

What could such a man as that do in a land such as Cali- 
fornia was in those first days, when there was a wilderness to 
subdue, an empire to create, and when progress was driven 
on by an energy as tireless as that which keeps the stars moving 
in their processions? 

He was elected clerk of the Supreme court of California, 
which, it was said, paid a salary of $30,000 per annum. But 
he saved nothing from it. What was the difference whether 
he had a few thousands on hand or owed a few thousands in 
debts? A multitude of anecdotes were told of him in those 
days. He had a beautiful wife — his home was a dream — but 
when, as he did sometimes, go home intoxicated, his wife would 
not scold, but would cry. One summer night, in Sacramento, 
he started home in that condition. It was about 2 :30 a. m. 
Not a drop of rain had fallen for four months in Sacramento, 
and there was no prospect of a drop falling for four months 
to come. But Charlies banged away at the door of a dry goods 
store until finally a sleepy clerk responded and opened the door. 
Fairfax bought an umbrella and went home. He admitted 
himself as softly as he could, ascended noiselessly to his wife's 
apartments, where the gas was turned half-down; sat down 
and raised the umbrella over his head. By this time his wife 
had awakened, and, sitting up in bed, she said sharply : 
"Charles Fairfax! What are you doing? Have you gone 
crazy." "No, Ada, dear," was the reply; "just waiting for the 
shower." 

He was going home about 4 :30 one morning when, pass- 
ing an open stand on the corner — it would be called a "buffet" 
nowadays ; it was called "pigsfoot corner" then — Fairfax 
stopped at the counter and ordered a cup of hot coffee and a 
sandwich. Wdien they were disposed of he felt in all his pock- 
ets, but had not a penny. He explained how things were to 
the old German who kept the place ; told him who he was and 



CHARLIE FAIRFAX. 39 

that lie would bring the money when he came up town next 
(la\-. But that was not satisfactory. The German came around 
the counter, took him by the arm and said : "Dere's too many 
your kinds of cusses dese days ; you gums inside and stays 
mit me till dot bill vos zettled." Charlie quietly went around 
the counter and took a seat in full \iew of the street. An 
hour later an early-awake merchant came hurriedly down the 
street on his way to business. Glancing over the counter he 
saw Fairfax ; stopped and said : "Fairfax, what in the Lord's 
name are you doing there." "I'm in jail." said Charlie; "I am 
in arrears to this gentleman in the sum of twenty cents; he has 
served a restraining order on me and threatens to make it a 
perpetual injunction." At last the matter was explained, the 
merchant advanced the twenty cents and Charlie was permitted 
to go home. But on leaving. Charlie took off his hat and with 
a courtly grace bowed to the bewildered pigs foot vendor and 
assured him that he had never tasted finer coffee and sand- 
wiches. 

He had another experience in San Francisco. He had 
been in the city two or three days, and woke one morning 
to find that he had not a penny in his clothes. He went out 
on Montgomery street and there met an old friend, who said : 
"Fairfax, have you been to breakfast?" He answered, "No," 
whereupon the friend said : "I wish you w^ould ask me to 
breakfast, for last night I hit a faro bank and went broke inside 
of twenty minutes." '"But I have not a cent, either." said 
Fairfax. Both laughed and were discussing how they were 
going to manage to get breakfast, when a mutual friend of both 
came up. and said: "Gentlemen, just around on Sacramento 
street is the finest restaurant in the world. Come and have 
breakfast with me!" 

After proper hesitation they accepted. A superb break- 
fast was ordered, but when nearly finished the friend said : 
"There's my old friend Hastings at the door. T must see him ; 
please excuse me one moment." 

He did not return. They nibbled at the remnants of the 
breakfast for five minutes or more and then Fairfax said : 
"He's gone; what are we going to do?" "Blamed if I know," 



40 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

was the reply. Fairfax called a waiter and said : "Is it time 
for spring chickens yet?" The waiter replied that they had 
some exceptionally fine ones. 

"Well," said Charlie, "broil us two, and look, ye, I want 
them broiled slowly until they take on just the right brown. 
I would rather wait than have them hurriedly cooked." 

The chickens were brought on. They had been slowly 
cooked and were slowly eaten. Just as the final crisis was 
imminent a Sacramento friend of Fairfax came in. In a word 
Fairfax explained the desperation of the case ; the friend 
laughed, and saying, "I must get a hurried breakfast for I 
am busy today," held out his hand which had a twenty-dollar 
piece in it, which in the handshake was transferred ; then 
Charlie settled the bill, tipped the waiter and the two went out. 
Just beside the door stood the friend who had asked the two 
to breakfast. In a rage, Fairfax demanded why he had played 
a trick like that upon them. "You see," said the friend, "I had 
not had a morsel of food for tw^o days and I was hungry." 
Then they all laughed and Fairfax gave the man $5 of the $20 
he had just borrowed; $5 to the other friend, and said, "That 
leaves me $4, and I can get home with that." 

After some years in California, Fairfax went back to Vir- 
ginia to visit his father and mother. 

In his absence, his father had become a fanatical prohi- 
bitionist ; brought out all his wines and liquors and poured 
them on the ground. Charlie had written that he was coming 
and was therefore expected. He reached the old home one 
morning and found his mother in the living room. After the 
excitement of the meeting had subsided a little the mother said : 
"Charlie, you know how papa is about all kinds of liquor, so 
when you wrote that. 5^ou were coming I got a bottle of the 
best for sale in Richmond; it is in the cabinet and whenever 
you want a little you will find it." "\A'ell, mother, inasmuch 
as I have not seen you for a good while I believe I will drink 
your health now," said Charlie, and he did. Then he went 
up to meet his father in the library, where his mother said he 
would find him. There were warm greetings, but after a few 
minutes the father said : "Charlie, you know what mv senti- 



CIlAkLll-: I'WIRI AX. 41 

iiicnts arc about all alcoholic drinks, but yon liavc been ont 
west, and so when I heard yon were coming-, T qnietly sent for 
a bottle of the best Bourbon. It is in that bookcase, the third 
from the door, and when you want a drink I will turn my 
back on you so as not to see you." 

"Well, father," said Charlie, "it is seven years since I've 
been home; I believe it is my duty to drink to your long life," 
and with that he went to the bookcase, found the bottle and 
got outside the drink. Then he asked where Jeff was (the old 
colored servant), who had been his playmate in childhood. 

He was told that Jeff was probably in the carriage house 
'V stables, and Charlie started out to find him. Jeff was wild 
u itii delight and expressed his joy in exaggerated antics. But, 
cooling down a little after awhile, he said, "Massie Charlie, 
vo knows how crazy old Massie has got on de liker business, 
but I heard you wuz comin'. and Ah says, young Massie is not 
goin' ter be cheated. I stole seben dozen eggs, sold 'em and 
got der finest bottle you eber tasted and it's heah in der hay- 
mow." Charlie took a drink with Jeff. After awhile he asked 
for Steve, the gardener. He found him trailing a grape vine. 
Steve was a quiet old darkie, but after awhile he said, "Massie 
Charlie. T knowd yo was comin' and what old Massie thinks 
bout drinkin', so look a heah!" There, under a leaf in the 
cabbage patch, was another bottle and Charlie drank with 
Steve. 

All his life thereafter he declared that there was nothing 
ilse so perilous to perfect sobriety as to visit a prohi1)ition ranch 
before breakfast in the morning. 

b'airfax spent some time in Virginia City. Xev. 

One night a gentleman was escorting his own wife and 
^Frs. Fairfax to some entertainment when they met a notorious 
ruffian, who, on seeing them, loaded the air with imprecations 
and anathemas aimed at them. 

Tt was heard l)y others who when, three hours later, they 
saw Fairfax coming down the street, knew by his manner that 
something serious was on. caught him and begged him not to 
mind what the ruffian had said, that he was drinking and a 
most brutal and dangerous man; to which Fairfax replied: 

4 



42 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

"What do I care for that thug? I want to find the man who 
permitted him to insult my wife and his own wife and did not 
kill him." 

One day on the street in Sacramento Fairfax became en- 
gaged in an altercation with a man who at one time had been 
a deputy clerk under Fairfax. The quarrel grew fierce and 
they proceeded to blows, when the man drew a sword from 
the cane he was carrying and drove it through the shoulder 
of Fairfax below the clavicle. Fairfax, who was a dead shot, 
drew a deringer from his vest pocket, cocked it and aimed it 
at the man ; then he dropped his arm and said : "You are a 
cowardly murderer : you have killed me, but you have a wife 
and children and I will spare your life," and then sank fainting 
into the arms of a friend. 

It was thought the wound was fatal, but at last he rallied 
from its effects and lived eleven years. When he died, a post- 
mortem was held and the surgeon said to one of the friends of 
Fairfax : "Do you say this wound was received eleven years 
ago?" When answered in the affirmative, the surgeon said: 
"Then God must have interposed to save his life. Save where 
the blade entered and made its exit the wound is as fresh and 
unhealed as though made but an hour ago. It is the most 
astonishing thing in the history of wounds." 

The memory of Charlie Fairfax lingers with only a few 
old-time friends now, whereas his name should have had a 
national and international fame; for he had abundant talent, 
the splendid prestige of an honored name. A little discipline 
in youth and something high to call out his manhood as he 
went out into the world, would have brought unmeasured 
honors to him; but he never would take life seriously and 
seemed to care nothing about the name he was to leave, except 
that no taint of dishonor should attach to it. 



THE GENTLEMAN FROM PIKE. 

IX THE West (I suspect it is so everywhere) are men 
whom their fellowmen designate as "empire builders." 
Some of them deserve the title. When men put the ma- 
chinery in motion and watch and work until it is made clear 
that it will grind away the barbarism of the frontier, and make 
possible, out of what was a wilderness to create glorified states, 
they are entitled to wear the badge of empire builders. 

There have been many of these in the world. Romulus 
with his plough marked the boundaries of what was to be 
"The eternal City" and maintained his place until it was ac- 
cepted as true that a new nation had been created. He was an 
empire builder. 

When Fernando Cortes burned his ships that there might 
be no retreat and proceeded to overthrow the Aztec dynasty 
with its human sacrifices, and on that soil to plant a Christian 
nation, whatever else may be said of him and his methods, he 
was certainly an empire builder. 

Almost all nations preserve the traditions of how their 
countries were first rounded into civilized form, and to hold 
as empire builders the first actors in the great drama. We in 
the United States have had many of these : their names would 
make a long and majestic roll. 

But with most of these there was a lofty or deep drnvn 
selfish purpose. 

Some have been intent upon creating a place which would 
rc(|uire high officers, and the unspoken thought was "I will 
fill the very highest of them and make of mine a name to be 
remembered." 

Others have been impelled by a desire to found on a firm 
basis the religion wliich they believed was the right one and 
to hedge it round with safeguards which would last for all 
time. 

Some have said to themselves : "The curse of the world 
is poverty: in that new land there will be opportunities, so soon 



44 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

as order can be established, to gather rapidly what men really 
covet most, a vast treasure in gold and lands, all that the land 
can produce and all that gold can buy." 

Others, dissatisfied with all human government, have 
determined that there shall at last be one perfect government, 
which, when the world realizes its perfections, there will be 
an epoch : the nations will accept it, and the cry will be, " 'Bout 
face!" and "Forward, march!' 

Out of all these I select the very greatest, for a brief 
review. 

I refer, of course, to "the gentleman from Pike." He is, 
or at least was, half a century ago, unlike all others.* He did 
not dream of going out and conquering" a kingdom. He had 
no plan for starting a new religion. He was satisfied with 
what he had. His choice lay between the Baptist and the 
Methodist, but he inclined toward the latter because there was 
more shout to it and less use for water. 

He had no desire to found any new government. His pri- 
vate belief was that there was already too much government 
in the world. 

Neither did he dream of finding- gold or silver mines. 
They were out of his line. 

What he wanted was more land, especially grass land. If 
near it there could be woods with wild game ; mast for his 
pigs, plenty of berries in the summer, and nuts and wild honey 
to be gathered later, they would all be welcome. 

Most people gain their impressions from their immediate 
surroundings and so this pathfinder in secret thought wanted 
to find a new Missouri, as Missouri was before the land was 
increased in value by the coming of so many unwelcome neigh- 
bors. Cheap and rich lands wdthout troublesome neighbors, 
whose thrift magnified the carelessness of his methods bv com- 
parison. 

So, upon his prairie schooner he loaded his househi^ld 
goods, leaving a corner in the huge wagon bed for his house- 



*Half a century ago Pike County, Missouri, was so strongly rep- 
resented in California that at last all emigrants across the plains were 
referred to as "Pike count}' men."' 



THi-: (;i':xriJ-:M.\x i-RoM imki:. v? 

linld s^ods. yokctl his oxen and hitched thciii to the wamon, tied 
a cow behind the \va.q;on. then, heading his team to the west, 
started. 

Then the air of the wilderness began to be sanctified l)y 
liis swear words, and so varied, so i)ictures(|ue and ah embrac- 
ing was his vocabulary, that timid animals in his path lied at 
hearing it. and the eagle on swift wing and fast-beating heart 
sought his eyrie to regain his usual repose of manner. 

He had heard that there were plenty of grass and good 
water one hundred or two hundred or a thousand miles away, 
and those were the things he wanted. 

If the sky was sapphire above him and the winds were 
laid, he merely said to himself, "It looks like to be a good day," 
and drove on; ma^be he sang a little. If the winds rose and 
the dust half-blinded him, he did not mind them; he ne\er even 
cleared his throat except when he wanted his \ocal chords to 
help him in emphasizing his wishes to the oxen. 

He carried a stock of adjectives with which to adorn his 
oration in case the wild man disputed his trespass; he carried 
an old-fashioned f(^wling-piece with which to ccmvert wild ani- 
mals into food: he and his wife and wliiie headed children ate 
their simple food and never murmured, for the open air and 
exercise are tonics for the appetite. 

Thus, day by da\", he toiled on; night by night the wagon 
supplied a house and slee])ing room; a frying pan and coffee 
])ot and a brush hre were enough cooking utensils for the 
whole brood, and the march was continued until the promised 
land was found and pre-empted. 

It was all made possible because the man was not sensi- 
tive: it seemed to hini dutw and the doing of it was a matter 
of course. 

It was made possible because the undemonstratixe woman 
in the wagon had enlisted to walk by the man's side while life 
lasted; what she held repressed in her own heart who can tell? 
When the wolves howled around them by night and the hoot 
"f the owl became at last a sound of derision, it was she who 
(|uieted the fears of the children; when she thought that in the 
event of an accident or illness ^hc would have to be both physi- 



46 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

cian and nurse ; when she dreamed at night of the dainty things 
she in girlhood had planned to have, and then awoke with only 
the natural savagery of the frontier to greet her eyes, she hid 
the feeling that it awakened deep in her soul and when her 
children cried at the desolation and loneliness, it was her arms 
around them and the simple song on her lips that hushed them. 
Talk of devotion and courage and that fortitude which faces a 
hard lot every day while the years come and go, without plaint 
and without repining ; where else can a harder test be found ? 

This movement of the Pike county man to the west lasted 
more than half a century. It was most pronounced in the 
forties, when he never rested until he stood on the bank of the 
Columbia ; and in the fifties, when his destination was the val- 
ley through which flows the Sacramento. 

And the wonderful part was that he did not know that he 
was a hero. 

"Did you not realize when you started that you might have 
to fight your way?" was asked one of them. 

"Of course," was the reply. "In one form or another yer 
always has ter fight yer way. If it isn't Injuns it's thar thirst 
or thar hunger or thar sickness, one blamed thing after another. 
It's all in thar play." 

But nature is responsive sometimes to men's wishes, and 
women's longings. As the company increased, the silence 
which had so long surrounded the wilds like a robe was rent by 
the cries of advancing hosts. At last, out of the rough out- 
lines of the wilderness, states w^ere hewed into form ; then came 
the scream of the locomotive through the majestic mountains 
to dispute the scream of the eagle ; the chariots of commerce 
began their roll and it was heralded to the world that in the 
great west a new, mighty empire had been created. 

^^^^o laid the foundation of this empire? Who steadied 
it through its infant years? To whom is the credit most due 
for what it now is? There are many to claim the honor, but 
who says the first and highest recognition is not due to the 
Who-haw Empire Builder — the gentleman from Pike? 



COLONEL E. D. BAKER. 

Wlll'^X alone, suiiietinics, the present vanishes, and 
from out of the soundless past stately forms stalk 
into the present, their sovereign faces wearing the 
calm of the long ago, but their kindly eyes seem aglow with 
memories of other days and other scenes which once filled the 
full measure of man's duty here and in which, in the splendor 
• •f their manhood, they bore their part. 

Among them there always comes the shade of E. D. Baker. 
]i is natural that it should be so, for to earnest boyhood he was 
always the ideal man, among the very foremost men who ever 
lived on the Pacific coast ; who ever went from the Pacific coast 
and died for his country. About five feet eleven inches in 
height, and built up to about one hundred and eighty pounds ; 
his face was that of Pericles, his eyes in repose sombered like 
a hawk's in his wide circles over earth or ocean in the after- 
noon sunbeams, but blazing like an eagle's when aroused — that 
was the picture he made in his daily life among men. 

But when on the rostrum some theme worthy of him called 
him to its championship; then there was a transformation 
scene, and listening and watching more than once I have said to 
myself: "It is as when Moses and Elias were transfigured." 
Face, eyes, hands were all alive, his voice took on a shrill 
cadence that carried men before it at will, and each sentence 
closed either ablaze with lightnings and deep roll of the thun- 
ders that his soul had called up. or with a rhythm like a loftv 
anthem. When thus awakened he was all energy, alive through 
and through, the ideal of Cicero's orator materialized : the 
ideal man of all the earth. 

-At that time he was a great lawyer: he had been a brilliant 
-oldier: he was fitted for any emergency. His politics were 
antagonized by the controlling political power that then ruled 
the TK^Iden State: his assailants were sometimes the brilliant 
men of the oppo«;ition. sometimes the canaille. l)ut he met them 
all. he mastered the learned and elofiuent by his superior learn- 



48 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

ing and eloquence, and the coarser class by showing them, to 
their discomfiture, the advantage in warfare of a Damascus 
blade in a skilled hand o\er a cleaver wielded by a boor. 

He pronounced the eulogy over the remains of the dead 
Broderick, and the state was melted to tears ; he made a speech 
in New York City in that portentous late autumn of 1860 
and set the hearts of his listeners ablaze ; he heard the closing- 
twenty minutes of the speech of Breckenridge in the senate, in 
justification of his giving up his place as a senator of the United 
States and joining the armies that had been marshaled to de- 
stroy the Union, and at its close at once took the floor, and 
when he finished the brilliant Breckenridge as a masterful de- 
bator was merely a memory. He was the close friend and 
adviser of President Lincoln ; he raised and trained a regiment, 
\\as sent against an enemy which outnumbered his command 
four to one ; the reinforcements promised him were never sent ; 
so when next morning the battle was joined, he, standing, as 
was his wont, with right hand in the breast of his coat, received 
a volley, at the same instant was struck by four bullets in his 
breast, either one of which would have been fatal. 

Edwa,rd Dickinson Baker was born in London. His 
father was a Quaker teacher, but his mother was the sister of 
Captain Thomas Dickinson, who fought side by side with Col- 
lingwood at Trafalgar, that Collingwood who would have 
divided the honors of that great deay with Nelson had not 
the latter died just as the thunders of battle grew still. 

Colonel Baker did not receive school advantages in 
schools, but his father was a teacher, and looked carefulh^ after 
his education ; and gave him that better education, in some 
respects, of taking him to all famous places possible and fill- 
ing his mind with their stories and legends. He saw the pageant 
of the funeral of Lord Nelson, and its splendor and solemnity 
lingered with him and influenced all his life. 

When he was five years old his father removed to Phil- 
adelphia, and spent ten years in that city as a teacher. 

What Baker read he ever afterward knew. He did not 
seem to have any conscious effort of memory ; he at once stored 
his mind and it was there, on call, ever after. 



coLO.\i:i. i:. 1). i',Aki-:K. 49 

He early developed the fact that he was a natural orat(jr. 
I Ic siudied law and became eminent at once. The I>lack Hawk 
war came on. He fouglit through llial wdv : then came the 
Mexican war, and then again he enlisted, lie was only n'ne- 
teen rears of age wiien he was admitted to the har i<\ Illint^is. 

In 1835 he remoxed t(^ Springfield. Illinois, and he must 
have been rated a fine lawyer then, for among his partners at 
difl:'erent times were Albert IX Bledsoe, subsequently assistant 
secretary of war in the southern (Confederacy : Joseph IJewitt. 
and the venerable judge Stephen P. Logan, whom Illinois i)eo- 
ple still declare was the greatest lawyer ever known in the 
state. He had among his contemporaries Lincoln, Douglas. 
McDougal, Logan, Trumball, Stuart, and otiiers of scarcely 
less note. 

In those days Colonel Baker used to write a good deal 
of poetry. Much of it was fine. It was transposing into 
rhyme the natural rhythm and eloquence in his soul. 

Colonel Baker was in Congress when the Mexican war 
broke out, and he hastened from W ashington to his home in 
Illinois and quickly raised a regiment of volunteers, which he 
leel to the Rio Grande. He was chosen by ( General Taylor as 
bearer of dispatches to the war department and proceeded to 
\\'ashington. 

Congress was in session and as he had not resigned his 
seat in the house, he availed himself of his privilege as a mem- 
l)er to speak. By general consent one of the most important 
bills relating to the soldiers was made a special order, and the 
chance was given Colonel Baker to discuss it. Having brought 
no civilian's clothes with him, he spoke in his militarv uniform, 
and so rapidly that the reporters were unable to make a good 
report. It made a most profound impression, and this was 
accentuated by Colonel Baker's recitation at the close of a pi^em 
in memory of his comrades who had died in the unhealthv cam]) 
on the Rio Grande. 

We give one verse of it, because of its style and because 
another poem in the same measure a few years later made and 
•^till makes a profound impression. It was as follows: 



50 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

"Where rolls the rushing Rio Grande, 

Here peacefully they sleep ; 
Far from their native Northern land, 

Far from the friends who weep. 
No rolling drum disturbs their rest, 

Beneath the sandy sod ; 
The mould lies heavy on each breast — 

The spirit is with God." 

He immediately after resigned his seat in Congress, to 
return to Mexico. His regiment was transferred to the de- 
partment of General Scott, and although he missed Buena 
Vista, he took part in the capture of Vera Cruz and greatly 
distinguished himself at Cerro Gordo. In that battle, when 
General Shields was struck down and the brigade faltered for 
want of a leader, Colonel Baker took in the situation at once, 
and shouting to his regiment, "Come on!" he ordered the 
whole brigade to advance. For his gallantry and skill. Gen- 
eral Scott continued Colonel Baker in command of the bri- 
gade. 

When the fierce debate came on on the question of admit- 
ting California to statehood. Colonel Baker was in Congress 
and urged its admission. When in reply Venable and Toombs 
referred to Baker's foreign birth. Baker fiercely replied, and 
closed with these fateful words : 

"If the time should come when disunion rules the hour 
and discord is to reign supreme, I shall again be ready to give 
the best blood in my veins to my country's cause." 

When President Taylor died he was still in Congress and 
pronounced a most beautiful eulogy on the dead general and 
president. After reviewing his career from a captaincy in the 
war with Great Britain up through his career as commander 
in Mexico, he said : 

"Mr. Speaker, the character upon which Death has just 
set his seal is filled with beautiful and impressive contrasts : 
A warrior, he loved peace ; a man of action, he sighed for 
retirement. Amid the events which crowned him with fame, he 
counseled a withdrawal of our troops. And wdiether at the 
head of armies or in the chair of state, he appeared as utterlv 



COLONEL K. D. BAKER. 51 

unconscious of his great renown as if no banners had dropped 
at his word, or as if no gleam of glory shone through his 

whitened hair." 

In 1852 Colonel Baker, with his entire family, migrated 
to California and settled in San Francisco. 

California was indeed a new field for him. Lie had seen 
stormy political times in Illinois: had passed through many a 
iierce camp'^ig" where a good deal that was brutal was exhib- 
ited. He had been in Congress a potent advocate of the ad- 
mission of California, but he did not know that from the hour 
of its admission, the preparations for a secession of the south 
had been going on, that in California many of the prominent 
men from the old South were in the movement 

Broderick. by his magnetism and power, was fighting his 
way; when he won his party divided, and by the "chivalry*' 
wing he was marked as an enemy and put down for slaughter 
when the time should be ripe. Baker, as the most conspicuous 
Republican, repeatedly canvassed the state. 

He was fiercely assailed; with every assault his voice 
grew louder and clearer, his fame took on a higher and higher 
stature. His answers to coarse invective were clarion calls for 
enlightenment and all-embracing freedom, until the men who 
"came to scoff went away to pray." His voice was a clear tenor 
and when in full volume seemed to fill all space with music. 

The modern schools have extended their studies ; the workl 
is filled with modern books, with the result that the graduates' 
learning has been widened, but it sometimes lacks thorough- 
ness. Four score years ago the ancient classics were insisted 
on in the schools until, at least with some students, they were 
so assimilated that they were part of their lives and gave color 
to all their intellectual efforts. It was so with Col. Baker. 

One of his greatest triumphs was in the mining camp of 
Goodvear's Bar-^high up on the Yuba and amid some of the 
sublin'iest of California mountains. Here were six hundred 
placer miners, and very few women. At the election the year 
before Col(^nel Baker went there only one Republican vote was 
cast. Baker said he would go and reinforce that voter. 

Standing on a carpenter's bench in front of a saloon he 



52 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

began his speech. There was a large sprinkHng of Irishmen in 
the crowd. The whole camp was present, but it had been whis- 
pered around and it was understood that there should be no 
applause. 

Baker spoke for half an hour, his voice being the only 
sound heard. But that was the year when the anti-foreign 
Know Nothing- party was in full force in California. When 
Baker reached that part of his speech, he gave a word painting 
of Reilly's Irish regiment in battle in Mexico, as he had watched 
it. When at the very climax he pointed to a staff from which 
the Stars and Stripes had been lowered, and passing from the 
description of the battle scene he delivered an apostrophe upon 
the flag. 

The crowd had grown very restless under the enchantment 
of his eloquence, and as he paused for a moment, a mighty yell 
as of a horde of wild Indians was started, and still yelling, but 
with tears running down their cheeks, a rush was made to grasp 
and bear away in triumph in their arms the speaker. The 
bench was overthrown, those upon it were pitched headlong 
upon the heads of those below, but no one was hurt. Then 
there was a night of it. 

On that occasion Baker justified what Stanley said of him 
in his funeral eulogy over his body — "How irresistible he was 
when he deprived men of their reason as he overwhelmed them 
in admiration of his transcendant genius." 

Colonel Baker's triumphs at the bar — that wonderful old- 
day California bar — were, if possible, greater than on the ros- 
trum. When it looked as though Cora, who killed Richardson, 
could get no lawyer to defend him, so fierce was public opinion. 
Baker went to his defense, and in his argument to the jury 
gave his reasons in these words : 

"The profession to which we belong is, of all others, fear- 
less of public opinion. It has ever stood up against the tyranny 
of monarchs on the one hand, and the tyranny of public opinion 
on the other. 

"And if, as the huml)lest among them, it liecame me to in- 
stance myself, I may say with a bold heart, and I do say it 
with a bold heart, that there is not in all this world the wretch 



COLOXML i:. 1). i'..\Ki:u. '^i 

s.. humble, so guiltv. so despairing, so lorn with aven-ing 
furies, so pursued bv the arm of the law. so hunted to cities ot 
refuge, so fearful of life, so afraid of death— there is no wretch 
s.. sreeped in all the agonies of vice and crime, that I would 
n..t have a heart to listen to his cry and a tongue to speak in 
his defense, th.moh round his head all the wrath of public 
opinion should gather and rage an.l n.ar and roll as the ocean 
. rolls around the rock." 

When Calif.^niia celebrated the laying of the first Atlantic 
cable. Baker was the orator in San Francisco. His oration 
was illuminated all the way thr.nigh with the lightning flashes 
of his genius and el(M|uence. 

No finer oration was ever delivered in any country than 
was Baker's, no finer from Demosthenes down to Lincoln's 
(iettysburg speech; no more enchanting elo(|uence was ever 

listened to. 

i:5aker pronounced the funeral eulogy over Ih-odenck. 
Never had such a host thronged to a funeral in California. 
The crowd was measure.l by acres. Of the oration, Edward 

Stanlev said : 

"i have read no effort of that character, called out by such 
an event, so admirable, so touching, so worthy the sweet elo- 
(|uence of Baker. Tt should crown him with immortality.'" 

Of it George Wilkes wrote : 

"At the foot of the coffin stood the priest, at its head, and 
>.j he could gaze fullv on the face (^f his dead friend, stood the 
fine figure of the orator. * * * For minutes after the 
vast throng had settled itself to hear his words, the orator did 
not speak. He did not look in the coffin— nay. neither to the 
right nor left : but the gaze of his fixed eye was turned within 
hi's mind and the tear was on his cheek. Then, when the silence 
was most intense, his tremulous tones rose like a wail and with 
an uninterrupted stream of lofty, burning and pathetic words he 
so penetrated and possessed the hearts of the sorrowing multi- 
tude that there was not one cheek less moist than his own. 
When he had finished the multitude broke into an agonized 
response of sobs." 

A rou"-h man who was there told mc that when Colonel 



54 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Baker stretched out his arms over the casket and said: "Men 
of California, the man whose body lies before you was your 
senator," every hat was doffed in an instant. 

In February, 1860, Colonel Baker, by invitation of Ore- 
gon friends, removed to that state. 

At that time the state was solidly Democratic and there 
were many great Democrats there to hold the state in line. 
Colonel Baker made a thorough canvass, speaking in every 
camp, town, and city, with the result that the next January he 
was elected United States senator. 

On his way to Washington he, in San Francisco, made a 
speech that fairly electrified that city and the whole state. 
In New York he made a marvelous speech. His most noted 
speeches in Washington were first, his reply to Senator Judah 
P. Benjamin, then to Senator Breckenridge. Those speeches 
must be read in their entirety to be fully appreciated. 

On the forenoon of that day of the Breckenridge speech. 
Colonel Baker had been out drilling his regiment. He went 
to the capitol, lay down on a lounge in a cloak room, and fell 
asleep. Sumner and a few others thought that while Baker 
could prepare a fine speech and deliver it splendidly, he could 
not speak impromptu. A senator woke him, explained that 
Breckenridge was making a fearful speech, and asked him if 
he would reply to it. 

He promptly consented, arose and entered the senate 
chamber in his uniform. He carried the senate and the gal- 
leries by storm. When, near the close, he referred to the 
sneering question of Breckenridge, asking where men could be 
found to go to the subjugation of the south, after saying 
what the states M^ould do. Baker said : "The most peaceable 
man in this body may stamp his foot upon this senate chamber 
floor, as of old a warrior and a senator did, and from that 
single tramp will spring forth the armed legions." Just then 
the scabbard of his sword struck the floor, ringing through 
the hall, and a mighty thrill struck the listeners. 

Colonel Baker, from the old Illinois days, had been one 
of the most trusted of Lincoln's friends. When the first inaug- 
uration of President Lincoln came, it was Colonel Baker who 



COLONEL E. D. I'.AKI-.R. 55 

iiitnuluced him to the throng- that had gathered to tlic inaugural 
ceremonies. 

After General McClellan had been appointed to the su- 
preme comand of the army of the Potomac, President Lincoln 
sent Baker with an important message to McClellan. The 
men met and measured each other, and a few days later Colonel 
Baker said to a friend : "I am going to take my command into 
one battle to show that I am not afraid. If 1 live through it. I 
will then resign, for things dr) not suit me. 

Tie was sent to Balls Bluff. The next morning he was 
killed: the reinforcements promised him were never sent, and 
so soon it was known that he was dead, his command was 
withdrawn. (An his person was found a major-general's com- 
mission signed by President Lincoln. Of his death John Hay 
wrote : 

"Edward Dickinson Baker was promoted by one grand 
brevet of the God of Battles, above the acclaim of the field, 
abi i\e the applause of the world, to the Heaven of the martyr 
and the hero." 

There was a juiblic funeral in Washington. It would 
liave been in the White House except for repairs going on. 

Splendid eulogies were pronounced in both houses of Con- 
gress. Even Senator Sumner made a touching address, clos- 
ing with the words: "Call. him. if you please, the Prince 
Rupert of battle: he was also the Prince Rupert of debate." 

But the great speech was by his old time Illinois friend. 
Senator McDougall of California. The historian savs: "The 
surprise, the thrill of the occasion was the speech of Mr. Mc- 
Dougall of California.' 

There were funeral services in man}- places in California 
and ( )regon. Edward Stanley was the orator in San Erancisco. 
Starr King also made a most touching address. The whole 
coast was in mourning. 

The soul of Colonel Baker went out from a battlc-lield 
nearly half a century ago. but the splendor of his genius and 
patrioti.sm still lingers over this west, and the echoes of the 
music of his voice, blending with the murmur of winds and 
streams, give a softer rhvthm t(^ both. 



DARIUS OGDEN MILLS. 

DARIIS OGDEN MILLS was a financier of the most 
perfect type. He was a forty-niner, I believe, and had 
a little money when he reached San Francisco. He 
went to California with the idea that as California was a land 
of gold, it w^as every man's duty to get as much of that gold 
as he honestly could. \\> say honestly could, for Mr. Mills 
was an honest man, often a coldly honest man. 

Reaching San Francisco, his eyes turned naturally to such 
commercial and financial news as was then available. South- 
ern California mines — mines south of the San Francisco paral- 
lel — were sending up much gold, and he went to them, 
bringing up, I think, at or near San Andreas. He probably 
brought with him a stock of miners' goods and opened a little 
store, but of this I am not sure. When I first heard of him 
it was as a gold dust buyer and banker. Gold is worth $20.67 
per ounce, when pure, but gold dust is not quite pure, and 
ordinary California dust generally sold at from $16.50 to $18 
per ounce when unalloyed ; on the east side of the Sierra, it was 
alloyed with silver and brought from $11 to $13 per ounce. 

I believe that buyers expecte.d to clear about $2 per ounce, 
and when two or three hundred miners came in on Saturda}^ 
night or Sunday morning with the dust they had mined the pre- 
vious week, from three ounces to thirty and forty ounces each, 
the man who purchased the dust w^as doing fairly well. 

When the cream of the placers was skimmed Mr. Mills re- 
moved to Sacramento and opened a bank, continuing the pur- 
chase of gold dust. The stages and pack animals brought it in 
from all sections of the state from Siskiyou to Mariposa. 

Mr. Mills quickly made a state-wide reputation as a far- 
sighted business man and safe and high-minded banker. 

Many people have wondered that the big four who built 
the old Central Pacific railroad did not enlist and include D. O. 
Mills. 

I know nothing of the facts, but think T understand per- 



DARIUS OGDEN MILLS. 57 

fcctly why such a thing- would have been impossible at the time. 

Careful business men looked upon the scheme of building 
a railroad over the Sierra as impossible, and if possible utterly 
impractical, for what was there beyond but the desert? 

It seemed that way to Huntington and Hopkins, but they 
did have a hope of building to Dutch Flat, then by connecting 
with their toll road to Truckec. to make a fortune. 

With Stanford it was different. Stanford, when young, 
never discounted native land, nor the possibilities that might 
quickly materialize into accomplished facts. 

When W. C. Ralston was organizin-^^ the California bank 
he wanted a president that would give dignity and strength 
and character to the new institution, and he chose ?^Ir. Mills, 
who accepted the place. Tt had become a commanding financial 
institution, when ]\Tr. Sharon wired from Virginia City that 
the thing the Comstock needed was a real bank, and Ralston 
wired him back to "come to San Francisco and we will talk it 
over." 

The result was the establishment of the branch bank in 
Virginia City, with Sharon in charge. 

There had been some petty banks that had loaned their 
money at five per cent per montli, which the borrowers could 
not pay. Their property could not be realized on, the banks had 
no more money to loan — it was nearly a tie up and lockout all 
around. 

Sharon took up the indebtedness, with liens on mines and 
mills as security, reduced interest to one per cent per month, 
established regular pay days at the mines and generally re- 
moved the weights that had paralyzed efifort and made labor 
impotent. Dealing in stocks was changed from feet to shares, 
and he dealt in them himself. 

\\'hat Webster said of Hamilton might have been said of 
William Sharon at that time : 

"He smote the rock of the national resources, and abund- 
ant streams of revenue burst forth. He touched the corpse of 
public credit and it sprang upon its feet." 

Rut within a vear Sharon had loaned out of the bank's 



58 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

money $700,000, with nothing behind it but some interests in 
mills and mines. 

People cannot comprehend it now, but that was a vast 
sum at that time. It seemed much greater than $17,000,000 
does now. 

When Mr. Mills as a stockholder and director of the 
parent bank saw the figures, he was shocked. He insisted that 
a meeting of the directors be called and Sharon sent for. It 
was done, and in a fiery speech he reviewed the figures and 
demanded 11 at the Comstock business should be closed up, the 
branch bank be called in, the losses relegated to the column of 
losses, and that thenceforth the bank should pursue a legiti- 
mate banking business. 

In reply Sharon stated the situation as it appeared to him, 
he being on the ground and watching everything ; said the 
property he had acquired was live property and declaring that 
if given a few more months' time he would not only clear up 
everything, but make the parent bank more money than its 
original capital. 

Ralston sided with Sharon and carried a majority of the 
directors to his side. As a last fling. Mills pointed out the old 
quartz mills that Sharon had purchased and declared that they 
were fit only for the scrap pile. To this Sharon replied that 
he had made a little money legitimately outside the bank and 
would take the mills at what they had cost the bank. 

This was agreed to. Ralston joined with Sharon, and 
the Union Milling company was organized. It was said that 
it made money sometimes when the mines did not, for the 
charge of niiling was $12 per ton, and a good deal of ore 
worked did not yield much in excess of that amount. To mill 
a ton of $9 and a ton of $18 ore together cost $24, and there 
was not much profit left. 

Mr. Sharon began to swiftly vindicate himself, and Mr. 
Mills began to have faith in his discernment and sometimes 
bought stocks himself. When the Belcher and Crown Point 
bonanzas were uncovered all concerned made great fortunes, 
which the Con.-Cal. Bonanza added. But Ralston, the most 
public-spirited man in the world, as the money came in, began 



DARIUS U(,DL:X mills. 59 

to launch out. He opened New Montj^^omery street. l)e,o;an the 
building of the Palace hotel, and spread out in a hundred direc- 
tions, and reduced the deposits in the bank down so low that 
it was forced to close its doors. When, at a meeting of the 
directors, the real facts were made clear. Mills arose, and going 
to Ralston's private office, demanded his resignation as presi- 
dent. 

Ralston turned to his desk, wrote the resignation, handed 
it tit Mills, arose, put on his hat, walked to north beach, and 
sprang into the bay. 

Many men have blamed Mills for that act. Certain it is 
that had the case been reversed, had ]\Iills made the failure, 
Ralston would have gone to him, put his arm around him and 
said: "Brace up. Mills; you have made a mistake, but who of 
us does not make mistakes ; brace up, we will pull through yet." 

But D. O. ]\Iills could not do that. He was absolutely 
honest : with him such an act would have looked like condoning 
a crime. 

Mills lived several years at the Palace hotel : he never 
built a fine home in the west. Tn private he was most courteous 
and agreeable to meet. 

He built one great office building in San Francisco ; he was 
the chief factor in the building of the Virginia and Truckee 
railroad, and in the Palisade and Eureka mad. and must have 
gotten his money back many times from both roads. He 
financerl the Carson and Colorado road. He removed to New 
York City about thirty-two or thirty-three years ago. 

His building of the Mills hotels in New York was charac- 
teristic of the man. He never believed much in direct charity, 
but rather in that indirect charity which was a help to honest 
effort. He figured that if he could reduce the living expenses 
of a laboring man or woman one-half, he or she would have an 
increased incentive to work and put by the surplus earnings. 
.So he built the hotels, and by them gave to working men and 
women more sanitary accommodations and better food than 
thev had been accustomed to at one-half or one-third what they 
had been paying. But so exact had been his calculations and 
- ' thitrousfh his knowledjre of the cost of things, that the struc- 



60 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

tures from the start paid better interest on their cost than 
many of the royal sky-scrapers near. 

He would not advance money on an undeveloped mine, 
for no matter what the promise of it was, there was an element 
of chance connected with it, and with him business was an exact 
science, around which no visible evidence of chance lingered, 
and so as an exact business man he was infallible. 

So he went on increasing his fortune, but he never per- 
mitted his wealth to cause his nature to harden or his native 
instincts to wane. He was always a fond husband and father 
and no matter how strict were his dealings with men, every- 
thing he had was always for his loved ones. Their lives were 
bound up in his and when he gave them aught, it was as 
though he was making a present to himself. 

He who was late ambassador to the court of St. James 
married his daughter. Home on leave of absence, three years 
ago, they entertained the royal Connaught and his family. 

We suspect that the boys who were on the Comstock 
thirty-five years ago and who are still on this side, as they read 
the account said : 'Here's to you, Duke and Whitelaw ! We 
bear no malice if we did put up some of that money which 
makes the entertainment. Shucks to a man who, if he has a 
thing to do does not do it gallantly!" 

But we would not do Mr. Reid injustice. He was an 
able editor and had more money in his own right than any 
editor ought to have. 

He took the editorship of the Tribune when the pen fell 
from the hand of Horace Greeley, and held the paper up to a 
standard which in such a place as New York City with the 
country behind it could not help but make him rich. 

But it was a proud day for him when he met Miss IMills. 

D. O. Mills died in 1910 or 1911, if I remember correctly, 
died near where he made his first stake, and no more perfect 
business man ever made a high name than he. 



ED. C. MARSHALL. 

HF. \\'AS of the old Virginia and Kentucky Marshall 
stock, the brother of the famous Tom Marshall of 
Kentucky. He was six feet two inches. I think, in 
heio-ht. straight as he was tall ; a leonine head on square shoul- 
der's, dark gray eyes, and hair and whiskers inclined to auburn ; 
a natural orator and the most versatile genius that ever took 
an audience captive and swayed it as he willed. I had the 
honor to know him well. He and one very dear to me crossc.l 
the plains bv the southern route in '49. and we lived in the 
>ame town many years. On that route across the continent, 
the company was chased for seven days by Apaches. 

One mid-day they made camp under a high reef of rocks 
to take their luncheon. 

:^Iarshall ate his hardtack and drank his coffee, and then 
strolled leisurely up to the top of this reef. Suddenly a hun- 
dred shots from the savages smote the reef. Marshall, with- 
. .ut hurrving his pace, came down, but when he reached a safe 
l)lace in camp he burst out into a torrent of expletives, winding 
up with the words : "If there is any gentleman in this com- 
i^anv who has the conceit to believe that an Apache can't shoot, 
let him go up on those rocks for a few minutes." But none of 
them seemed to have any doubts. 

On the stump he was all encompassing in his fun. his 
pathos and wonderful eloquence. In a speech one night I 
heard him describe the famous Democratic convention held in 
the Baptist Church in Sacramento in 1854. He said: 

"Knowing it was in the house of God, I supposed, of 
course, that peace would reign through all the deliberations. 
So I went to look on and listen. I remained until members 
began to draw revolvers and bowie knives: then, the day being 
w rn-m and the air in the hall close, I went outside. 

I took a seat on the shady side of a lumber pile. The 
-liadv side was the one furthest from the church. 



62 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Soon a gentleman came by. He evidently had forgotten 
some important business, for he was running. 

Evidently, too, he was in too much of a hurry to come out 
of the door, for he had a window sash around his neck." 

He closed with these words: "Talk about corruption! 
Why, gentlemen, the man in th-e moon held his nose as he 
passed over Sacramento that night." 

He was a candidate for the senate in 1854. Governor 
Weller had issued an address in which he overdid the business 
of praising the Irish and Germans, who had so gallantly fought 
for their adopted country in the ^Mexican war. Marshall made 
a speech a few evenings later. I recall from memory a para- 
graph of that speech as follows : "Old man Weller has told 
you of the devoted patriotism of the Irish and German soldiers 
that went, out of love for their adopted country, to help fight 
her battles on foreign soil. Don't you believe it, fellow citizens. 
Weller does not know. I do. They fought all right enough, 
but they went there just as I did, for I was there. I have a 
long scar to identify myself that I got there. I was young, 
'^omewhat foolish. I liked adventure. I heard there was going 
.0 be a war, and all my life I had been wondering how it would 
•oem to be in a real battle, so I went. I found out ; but let me 
•ell you something. The man who in that company, under that 
flag, with drums rolling, bugles calling, and the big guns be- 
ginning to roar ; the man who at that place would not have 
been eager to take a hand, would not have been fit to have had 
old Fritz for a grandfather or a genuine Irish lady for a 
mother." 

John Bigler was candidate for Governor and Marshall 
went over the state debating the issues with him. Governor 
Bigler was a short and very corpulent man. They made a tour 
of the mountain camps, when on their return to the valley 
they held a meeting at Marysville. In the course of his speech 
Marshall said : "You would not think it, but my friend Bigler 
is the toughest formation that ever an opponent tried to debate 
solemn, political issues with. I never realized his charm until 
one morning in a mining camp. I arose at dawn and started 
out for a walk. I found the governor out ahead of me. He 



KD. C MARSHALL. 63 

was s;oinq; from store to store. In every place lie was struck 
l)v the wonderful quality of g^oods the inercliant exposed for 
■>;iK'. lie liad seen nothins^ of their (iiudity. in any of the 
stores in the lower cities. Then, the eulogy over, he was most 
glad to find such goods, for he wanted to purchase a pair of 
trousers, and he knew there was not a pair of pantaloons in 
all the mountains c)\ California that would come within six- 
teen inches of .sroine^ around him." 

lie had hcen in Cong"ress the previous year. I recall a 
few words of a speech he made recounting- his experience. It 
ran like this: "A'ou find queer old chaps in Congress. Hair 
thin on the tops of their heads; their calves all shrunken; they 
do not crack a joke once a month, but when they do. it is a 
rib roaster. You know I told you if I got to Congress I would 
introduce a Pacific railroad bill that would make them sit up 
and take notice. Well, I fixed the bill and introduced it. and 
after a while, was given a chance to discuss it. I was getting 
along fine, ^^y inner consciousness was telegraphing to my 
brain that this was bound to be a winner, when an old chaj) 
with a cracked voice interrupted with the words, "Mr. Speaker, 
may T ask the gentleman w here he is going to locate his road ?" 

"Now." continued Marshall. "I am no civil engineer; if 
T build the intellectual part of a road, is not that enough for 
line man to do? Why require the purely material part and 
demand of me my grades and curves as though I were a 
ounty surveyor?" 

.Ml that summer ^Tarshall made his campaign, insisting 
that this scramble for ofifice was disgraceful, that the office 
should seek the man. But when the legislature met. Marshall 
was in full evidence on the streets of Sacramento. A friend 
ai)proached him and said: "Mr. Marshall. T thought it was 
your theory that the office shnuld seek the man?" 

"Certainly it is." was the quick reply, 'but suppose the 
iffice is out looking for him. is it anything more than common 
riiurtesy for him to be where he can be found?" 

When the great war became imminent, -\rarshall drifted 
back to Kentucky. After the war he was a candidate for 
Congress against Hon. Luke T'lackburn. They went over the 



64 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

state in joint debate. Marshall sought to get Blackburn to 
discuss the tariff question with him. Finally Blackburn did 
discuss it for a few minutes in glittering generalities. In reply 
Alarshall said : "You heard my friend on the tariff. He 
reminded me of a beautiful swan sailing on a placid lake; her 
plumage stainless as snow ; singing as she sails, absolutely 
serene in her self-consciousness, exquisite in her song, drawing 
about half an inch of water and totally unconscious of the un- 
fathomable depths beneath her." 

Later in life he returned to California and made the most 
terrible arraignment of a lordly culprit in a San Francisco 
court ever heard in that state. But when his emotions were 
awakened and the theme was worthy of him, it was an enchant- 
ment to listen to him. Hear this of the California pioneers : 

"They were able to win the greatest of all triumphs, the 
victory over themselves ; they were able to preserve order with- 
out law; to maintain justice without tribunals; their possession 
of absolute independence never degenerated into selfishness, 
nor the almost savage liberty of a country without law, into 
cruelty or oppression. 

"Shall we, who, in conscious fulfillment of a great mis- 
sion, brought method out of chaos, and cultivated the flowers 
of justice and safety in the soil of anarchy — yield to lesser dan- 
gers, and baser temptations? Shall we soil the splendor of 
the past?" 



COLLIS P. HUNTINGTON. 

M.\SS1\'E and slri>iig-, compelling in all his ways, C. P. 
Huntin:^ton filled exactly the world's idea of a mas- 
I terfiil man of afifairs. Had he been trained a 

l» soldier and been given a command, he wonld not have de- 
pended upon tactics or grand strategy, but upon force. He 
would never have fought until he believed he had the heaviest 
battalions, and then would have struck directly at the enemy's 
■enter, and his order would have been to "slay and slay and 
slay" until all opposition was crushed. From such points in 
I his history, as they appeared from time to time, the late Mark 
Hanna was nearer his type of man than any jiublic man that 
f can recall. 

Still he was a most courteous and companionable man 
to those whom he held as friends, and, deep down, he was a 
generous man and most appreciative of those who had fax'ored 
hiiu. 

After a close friendship of nearly forty years he broke 
with Leland Stanford because he persisted in permitting the 
sycophants around him to elect him United States Senator, 
when A. A. Sargent wanted the place. He did so because as 
a just man he felt that it was his duty and Stanford's duty 
to serve Sargent in every honorable way, in gratitude for the 
inestimable services performed without reward in getting the 
harter for their railroad, the old Central Pacific, through Con- 
gress, loaded as it was with subsidies. 

That he was a captain among great financiers, he aliund- 
antly established in his more than thirty years' wrestle with 
the strongest of them. His one weakness in that regard was 
the strength of the late E. H. Harriman. Tf he once made u]) 
his mind, he would not change it. Tf he once fixed his eyes 
upon a golden cloud, he noted nothing at his feet, though 
what he stumbled over might be real gold, while the cloud was 
but an illusion made by passing sunbeams. His heart was 
fixed on California : he held it as holding luore treasures, treas- 



66 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

ures in soil, in mines, in scenery, in climate, than any other 
state, but when he came to the dividing line where the glori- 
fied, wooded Sierra, having exhausted all the moisture that 
came in from the sea, broke down into the desert to the east; 
he said to himself: "All this is but as the barren ocean at 
best ; if we build a railroad across it, the road will be but as a 
bridge, our profits must come from California and from where 
beyond the mountains the green fields are once more found." 
And notwithstanding the expansion that he saw in, and the 
profits he realized from, that desert, he never changed his 
stubborn mind. Thus with the completion of the road to Prom- 
ontory, his idea was to commercially fortify San Francisco, 
and later Los Angeles and San Diego, to keep all opposition 
roads from coming in from any direction ; his thought being 
to build up San Francisco and so far as possible, California, 
and to milk the desert for "all that the traffic would bear." 

So soon as possible for him he went east and inaugurated 
the building of the Chesapeake and Ohio road, his dream evi- 
dently being to complete, link by link, his roads, to build a 
great new capital for commerce at Newport News and depend 
upon the through traffic for his ultimate great fortune. He 
fought it out on that line as long- as he lived. And he dom- 
inated the other three chief associates with him. and that policy 
ruled to the last. 

We cannot help but think that had Mr. Harriman lieen in 
his place, when the results from the Comstock, the other great 
mines of the desert, and the possibilities of the soil when 
touched by water, been shown him; with a quick intuition he 
would have said to himself: "AAHiy, of course, vast treasures 
are at my feet, else nature would not have so carefully guarded 
them through the centuries, by this forbidding desolation. It 
is for me to make them available through a transportation sys- 
tem that will give the men who toil with brawn and brain a 
chance." And he would have fixed his capitals at San Fran- 
cisco, at Los Angeles, at Portland and Seattle, not to keep 
others out — for he would have known that would be impos- 
sible, but to have covered the country that he wanted and from 



LUl.lJ^ i'. mXTIXGTOX. 67 

wliicli he would have been sure of drawinj^f sufficient rewards. 

And when the mortgages on the old through road fell due. 
instead of its being but a rusty line of steel and a right-of-way, 
it would have been double-tracked from Omaha and Kansas 
City to San Francisco and Portland, so perfect in condition and 
eciuipment that passengers going east or west would have ud 
tliought of" taking any other line, and he would have settled 
the mortgages with his individual check. 

Mr. Huntington was a merchant in Sacramento when the 
( "(~)mstock was discovered. He, with his business partner, 
Mark Hopkins, in consultation with Leland Stanford, Charles 
Crocker and his brother. Judge Crocker, after much consid- 
eration, determined to build a toll road from Dutch Flat over 
the Sierra to a terminal on Truckee river, got their charter and 
began work. This was in 1859. I have explained how from 
that the old Central Pacific Railroad was projected and carried 
to completion. 

But let no one conclude that the building of that road was 
not a great achievement. Mountains were not torn down 
then as they now are. Dynamite was not discovered then and 
nitro-glycerine was awfully dangerous. It was far from the 
base of railroad supplies, the second-class labor of California 
was scarce and practically worthless, the first-class laborers 
could not be obtained ; before the work was hardlv begun, a 
great war was threatening the very life of the nation and fast 
destroying its credit, and behind all there was no faith in the 
success of the undertaking in any financial center of the world. 
Then there was a mile and a quarter in altitude to be made in 
ninety miles and the jealous Sierra piled up its obstacles in the 
way of the audacious few who were essaying to lead the 
assault up its rugged side. 

Anyone who remembered how long a time was consumed 
in boring the Hoosac tunnel will catch a g^Iimpse of the work 
i)efore these men. Charlie Crocker was the executive man in 
the field. Mark Hopkins saw to the accounts ; Governor Stan- 
ford wrote an optimistic letter now and then, while upon Mr. 
Huntington was the work of keeping the finances alwavs in 



68 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

solid form, and in purchasing rails, rolling stock, etc. Judge 
Crocker was too ill to be of much use, and died before the work 
was completed. 

Before the work started, elaborate plans for a railroad 
office were prepared. They were shown to Mr. Huntington; 
with a pencil he sketched a cheap building, one story, with live 
or six rooms, in form and appearance much like a dilapidated 
barn, and said: "Build it that way. That will do for us until 
we get out of the woods." And it did. 

He went east and advertised for bids for a huge contract 
for rails and rolling stock. One bid, the lowest, had enclosed 
with the bid a separate note explaining that a large percentage 
would, should the bid be accepted, be returned to him person- 
ally as his commission. He accepted the bid, but returned it 
with a request that it be made over less the commission, that 
it might be filed, as there were to be no individual commissions 
in the building of the road. 

Mr. Crocker contracted for ten thousand Chinese for 
graders, tried them a month, then informed the companies to 
which they belonged that there must be a change ; that no men 
could work on the food they were restricted to, that wheaten 
flour, beef, pork, mutton and vegetables must be substituted 
in great part in lieu of the everlasting rice. This was done, 
and in another month they became an effective working force. 

So the road pushed its way slowly to the crest of the 
mountains ; the grade down the eastern slope was much easier, 
and when the desert was reached, it was rushed whh all speed 
until the locomotives touched noses at Promontory. 

The minds of the chief actors had grown immensely in 
performing their great work. They had, too, apparently 
grown in their acquisitiveness. They never for a day used the 
road as a common carrier, but as private property. They did 
nothing to develop the country through which the road passed, 
but rather to exact the utmost revenue possible. 

When a carload — ten tons — of ordinary merchandise cost 
$340 from Chicago to Sacramento; if the car was stopped at 
Reno, one hundred and fifty miles east of Sacramento and 
run up the little fifty-mile road from Reno to the Comstock. 



COLLIS V. JILX nXGTOX. 69 

the chari^e there was $760. The through freight to Sacra- 
mento and the local freight back to Reno was exacted. When 
people complained, they were treated as enemies, and as nearly 
as possible the company owned the legislature, congressmen 
and judges of California. 

The same company pushed the road from Sacramento 
to Oregon, from San Francisco to Los Angeles, for the sub- 
sidies given for building them, and finally out across Arizona 
and New Mexico to eastern connections. It nursed all its ven- 
tures but the old Central Pacific; that it simply milked until 
when the payments came due upon it, it was half a wreck. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Huntington had grown tn be acknowl- 
edged as one of the foremost financiers in the nation, and the 
spectacle he presented holding up. controlling and guarding the 
mighty enterprise that he and his partners had established, after 
all his first associates had died and he himself was an old man. 
was grand. His brain never faltered, his energy never lost its 
spring. 

His iron will fought all obstacles — he worked in royal 
harness to the last, in truth a financial and industrial king. In 
the forest of men in California in the Argonaut days there 
was one lordly oak. As that first forest melted away and a 
new one of different species succeeded, this oak still stood ; 
warded oflF all storms that w^ere hurtled against it ; turned aside 
the damp and the frost ; waved its arms in the face of the hur- 
ricane: beat back decay; healed its own wounds: sheltered its 
own eagles, and stood erect until struck and shattered in a 
moment by the thunderbolt. 

That oak was C. P. Huntington : one of the highest types 
of the men who fought back the savageries of the west coast : 
blazed the trails over which progress could advance, smoothed 
the paths and erected signal stations to point the way for civ- 
ilization to come and build its temples, that at last full enlight- 
enment might find prepared for it a home. 



JUDGE CHARLES H. BRYAN. 

WHEN I first knew him he was a young- man, perhaps 
twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age, hand- 
some as Adonis, light-brown hair, bhie eyes, the 
complexion of a carefully-housed girl, but with a singfularly 
expressive and strong- face, a firmly-knit frame, say five feet 
nine inches tall, and weighing perhaps one hundred and sixty 
pounds. A marked feature was his voice. Even in ordinary 
conversation there was a lyric resonance to it, with cadences 
that reminded one of the echoes of music that, sounding out 
over still waters, strikes a promontory and floats back partly 
in music and partly in murmurs. But when speaking to an audi- 
ence, especially if the occasion or the theme had called out all 
his power, that voice took on organ tones and held men spell- 
bound. 

In those days, half a century and more ago, learned men 
had been more drilled in the classics, as a rule, than they are 
at present; men's thoughts seemed to be different from what 
they now are ; the shadow of ancient renown was beckoning 
them on toward the height of great scholarship and toward 
a sphere where the language is as pure as that which Cicero 
in Rome and Demosthenes in Greece framed their sentences 
from. 

Now the shadows of sky scrapers, and the stockboard are 
upon the eyes of students ; the thought is not to climb the 
heights which are lighted eternally from above : but rather up 
those other heights where success, often bruised and scarred, 
and befouled and stained by the soil on which it camped on the 
trail, is found. And we sometimes think it can be detected in 
the voices of men. They seem to have a metallic ring, not the 
old sonorous rhythm. The first time I heard Charlie Bryan 
speak in public was in a court room. He was defending a sur- 
geon for malpractice. A man had been shot through the mus- 
cles of the arm l3et\\een the elbow and shoulder, the shot graz- 



JUDGE rii.\kLi-:s II. I'.m w. i\ 

iiig- but not severing the main artery. The surgeon amputated 
the arm and the victim had sued him, claiming heavy damages, 
on the ground that the amputation was needless. Eminent 
counsel were pressing the suit, and Bryan was alone in the 
defense. The suit hung on the question of how serious the 
wound was to the main artery. Bryan established that the 
outer coat of the artery was wounded. Opposing counsel 
insisted that it was but grazed and not seriously injured. An 
i .1(1 army surg-eon was called to the stand, the nature of the 
wound was described to him and he was asked what the prac- 
tice would be in the army, if such a wound was encountered. 
Me promptly replied : 'We would take no chances, but ampu- 
tate the arm," but at once added, "You know, we have not 
much time when a battle is on and many a limb is amputated 
that ought to be saved." 

Xow, when Bryan's client amputated the arm he had 
plentv of time, but was in a mountain mining camp where 
there were not many facilities for nursing the sick or attending 
to the wounded. All the facts were brought out but, boy that I 
was. I thouglit no especial skill had been exercised on either 
-ide. When the arguments began, one of the attorneys for the 
plaintiff stated the case briefly, that the man was shot through 
the arm, a mere flesh wound that should have been healed in 
ten davs at most, whereas the bungler in charge, either through 
ignorance or a desire to make a large fee and some fame, had 
amputated the limb, crippling the man for life. 

Then Bryan spoke. His voice to the jury was like a 

caress at the opening, as he explained to them their high duty 

as iurors, instruments selected to speak in the very name of 

justice. He then swiftly reviewed the testimony and declared 

tliat all of importance that had been delivered was by the army 

-urgeon. Then his voice took on a shriller cadence. In half 

1 d(^zen terse sentences he described a battle in progress — one 

could hear the vollevs and the shouting, the tread of men and 

' horses and now and then it seemed a strain of marshal music, 

j the blare of a trumpet and the roll of drums. Then a wounded 

i man was jiictured. a man with a shot through the arm. A 

\ hole corps of surgeons are near: the probing of the wi~)und 



72 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

reveals a wounded artery, and the order is without hesitation : 
"The arm must be amputated." 

Then the picture was changed to a rough mining camp ; 
the room a miner's cabin; the Hghts but a few candles; a lone 
surgeon with but few instruments; the wounded man faint 
from loss of blood brought in, the wound still bleeding; and in 
those rude surroundings the surgeon does the best he can, and 
what he does saves the man's life. Then to the jury, in a 
solemn voice he said : "Shall this devoted man be punished for 
saving that life?" 

The speech was but twenty-three minutes in delivery, but 
it had woven its spell. The associate counsel for the plaintiff 
tried argument and ridicule and scorn in vain against it. 

For several years Bryan's success as an advocate and 
rostrum orator was phenomenal; at last he became a judge of 
the Supreme court. In that office he never made a mark. He 
was essentially an advocate. 

Soon after it began to be noticed that his mental faculties 
were breaking down. He bought the great race horse Lodi 
and was often seen on the race track. He began to drink a 
good deal ; then as the crisis of the Civil war grew near, as 
Broderick and Ferguson w^re killed and old friends grew cold, 
when it began to be clear what was coming, Bryan was greatly 
perturbed. He was an Ohio man by birth, but always a Demo- 
crat. When the great race between Lodi and Norfolk was on 
at San Jose, the colored man who had been the stable com- 
panion of Lodi since colthood, who, so to speak, had brought 
him up, had broken him, trained him and petted him until 
neither the man nor the horse desired any other companionship 
— this colored man went to a group of gentlemen on the track 
and told him that he could do nothing, that Massa Bryan so 
interfered with him that he was helpless. 

They told the colored man that they had laid heavy wagers 
on the horse, and if Bryan tried any more to interfere, to not 
mind him, to knock him down if necessary and they would pro- 
tect him. He went back to the horse and soon Bryan came 
again and began to order him what to do. The colored man 
took Bryan gently by the shoulders and said : "Massa Bryan. 



JUDGE CHARLES iL BR VAX. 73 

you must go away and not bother me any more until this race 
is over." Bryan, astounded, looked at him a moment, then 
turned and walked rapidly to a Democratic friend and in a 
whisper said : 'A\'e must get out of here ; the abolitionists have 
got this town." 

1 le drifted to Virginia City, Nevada. There he imagined 
he was commander of a picked army w^hich he called "The 
Arizona Rifles." He w^ould explain in the most perfect, classic 
English what the command consisted of, what its purposes 
were, how high were its motives ; what it was sure to accom- 
plish — the most beautiful English one could imagine, but not 
one word of sense. 

It was in the days when the lawsuits on the Comstock 
assumed magnified proportions ; it was at the time, too. when 
so many companies changed the old forms into corporations. 
In those days some young lawyers did not know everything 
about corporation laws ; at least their practice had been outside 
of them. 

One night a young lawyer with two or three clients was 
discussing an important case which they had on in the courts, 
when the lawyer frankly admitted that he was extremely per- 
plexed and said he wanted associate counsel or at least the 
advice of some lawyer wdio was more familiar with those 
phases of the law than he. One of the principals who knew 
Bryan well, said : "Let us go and find Charlie Bryan. Lie is 
'■razy as a bed-bug, but he might steer us straight." 

They found him in bed in a hotel. He greeted them, 
first putting up his arms as though he held a gun, and began to 
-])eak of the Arizona Rifles. The young lawyer intermitted 
and explained to him his trouble in making an application of 
the law to a case in point. Bryan listened and then, sitting up 
in bed, said : 'The case is simple. Vou have become confused 
in trying to make an application from some contradictory 
statutes which the British Parliament has woven into the law, 
to distinguish ecclesiastical from commercial corporations. But 
tlie point you seek to establish was a fundamental factor in 
the law as originally framed in old Rome, two thousand years 
a-o." In the meantime his eves had become fastened on a rude 



74 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

picture seen through the dim light suspenaed on the opposite 
wall of his room, and he began to address tliat, as he would a 
court. He explained the whole history of the laws governing 
corporations as they had from time to time been expounded 
and established in old Rome; linked them together until they 
became a perfect system, and with a diction altogether fault- 
less and a courtesy and grace exquisite, exhausted the subject 
and then demanded judgment. Then he ceased, dropped back 
upon his pillow and in a moment fell asleep. His awed visitors, 
breathless, on tip-toe backed noiselessly from the room and 
noiselessly closed the door. 

It was Bryan's last address to a court — the last flash of a 
glorified intellect going into final eclipse. I have often won- 
dered where he thought he was, before what audience he was 
speaking. Was it a mental reincarnation, and was the oppos- 
ing counsel some stately Roman like Cicero and the court the 
senate of Rome? Or was it the lord chief justice of England 
that he was addressing, with the paraphernalia of England's 
highest court around him ? Was it an occasion such as he had 
dreamed of when first from school there were whispers from 
his own soul of what he might be if he tried? Who knows? 
But what a pity that when he sank to sleep that slumber had 
not deepened into the final sleep, for a few months later he 
died a pitiable accidental death in Carson City. 

In all my life I never saw so splendid an intellect shat- 
tered : never a life so filled with promise go into total eclipse. 



THE OLD SAN FRANCISCO. 

SOMETIjMES it is a relief, or at least a rest, to turn 
away from men and have a visit w^ith nature. If it is 
some spot that we love, it is not difficult to believe that 
there is a subconscious affinity between us. 

The first time I looked out upon San Francisco, it was 
from the deck of a battered steamship that had been in a fierce 
fis^ht with winds and waves for thirty hours ; which had been 
->o nearly lost just inside "The Heads" that a passenger, an 
old shipmaster, turned to a man beside him and in a low 
voice quietly said : "This ship and these six hundred lives are 
not worth a straw." 

But the steamer finally righted up and limped on into port, 
though the gale was so fierce in the bay that the ship could 
not pull into the pier until the next day. Through that after- 
noon T watched the little city, and during that afternoon I built 
more than one city, in imagination, on her site. I remember 
that one was a new Venice, for the bay was an inland sea as 
beautiful as the Adriatic, a marvelous place as it looked, for 
sailing gondolas. 

But a new Rome suited l)est. for I could look forward to 
a time, not far away, when "from her throne of beauty" she 
was "to rule the world." 

Why should she not? Behind her was the wonderful 
-tate, which in everyone's thought was ribbed with gold ; be- 
yond was "the East" from which the argosies of the Orient, in 
ceaseless procession, were to come and go until the new empire 
should eclipse all that had been accomplished in all the rolling 
ages since man began to build his landmarks on the ocean's 
'chores. 

Though but a boy. I knew that from the first our country 

had been crippled for want of money ; but now a golden stream 

had started to flow through that gate of gold, and its volume 

was steadily increasing — why should not ours be the richest of 

til lands ^ ' 



76 AS I RE^IEMBER THEM. 

When next day we went ashore, the prospect lost some of 
its charm. There were no fine structures there then; the Httle 
old Amefican Exchange was the fine hotel. And how was a 
great city to ever grow out of those sand dunes? But even 
then I stopped at a httle place where a few flowers were offered 
for sale, and I caught for the first time the fragrance of San 
Francisco flowers. The memory of that clings to me still. I 
think, with my eyes bandaged, were half a dozen boquets from 
different points submitted to me I could, just by the fragrance, 
select the one from San Francisco. 

Among the first things to notice was the absence of old 
men, but the presence of a multitude of young men, and every 
state had its representatives. It was there that north and south 
and east and west met, and from there started out for the con- 
cjuest of the wilderness. 

Never before did any army so splendid take up its march 
to drive a wilderness back ; to build the first temples to Indus- 
try, to Order, to Progress, to Peace. A new civilization was 
to be founded, a new order, where all the narrowness, all the 
provincialism, all the little envies and jealousies of the older 
states were never to secure a foothold. 

The most experienced and careful comers were the ones 
to remain there; the alert and exultant ones sought the hills, 
to turn the rivers and to leach the sands of their gold. 

When, after a little, the men from the diggings came with 
their dust and from the proceeds began the fashion of painting 
the town red, then the "honest miner" acquired a name. He 
was of a new species never seen before, and, praise God. he 
has kept the species distinct and pure ever since. 

The city never had a setback until, upon the killing of 
James King of William, the vigilance committee sprang to life 
in a night and caused it to stand still for a year and more. 

As the placers began to fail the marvelous fertility of the 
soil began to cause men to look forward to a time when the 
gold yield might fall, but to be succeeded by a more rational 
wealth. 

Then came the Eraser river excitement, which further 
crippled the revenues from the mines, but the city continued to 



I'llI-: OLD SAX FRANCISCO. 77 

g^row . It had become a settled fact that among all the cities of 
the world not one was more superbly located, not one had 
superior natural advantages around and behind it. 

All this time there was another band of men gathered 
ilicre whose thoughts and lives were not disturl)e(l by the rush 
and roar, but rather their purpose was to magnify the welfare 
of their fellow men. Such men as the Rev. Stebbins. the Rev. 
Dr. Scott, a little later Thomas Starr King, Professor Joseph 
LeConte. and others — a royal band. The learned professions 
were filled with eminent men. A wonderful array of bright 
writers were calling out the laughter and the tears. Lieut. 
Derby — ']o\\x\ Phoenix" — was making San Diego famous; 
lecumseh Sherman was in a l)ank in the city: over at Mare 
Island, the great Farragut was listening for the call which 
'should give him immortality, and. later, out at Alcatraz Albert 
Sidney Johnston was waiting for his summons 'to "glory and 
the grax'e." 

At that time. too. the homes of San Francisco were the 
most delightful in the world. No one was very rich, none ex- 
ceedingly poor, and there was a cordiality in the hospitalities 
extended to guests which was something to remember always. 

But when the call from the desert was heard, when the 
storv of the Comstock was first told, then a transformation 
began. When a man made a stake his first thought was to have 
a house in San Francisco. It had been the Mecca to which they 
had all gravitated when they made a stake; now as many as 
could, wanted a palace of his own. From the mines of the 
desert a new city grew up on the site of San Francisco; grew 
,ind flourished. New public temples, new private mansions 
grew into form and place: with them increased wealth came 
and increased hospitality, and all in all the city was the most 
delicious place to live in on all this world, from the opening 
'f the first bonanza on the Comstock to the time when the 
iealous earthquake and the devouring fire came to challenge 
ihat brave people to gird on their armor and build a new city. 

Tt is said the new city is fairer and stronger than was the 

lid. and it mav be. but it cannot be the same. The echoes of 

the I 'id voices have grown still. ihc men of affairs arc new 



78 AS I i>jp:mI':mi;|';u 'riii-.M. 

iiicMi. TIk' (lid iiidiisli i;il Idngs long ago laid down their sccj)- 
trcs; there may be new ones as gallant, and strong, and brave, 
but tliey are for the new generation. 

W ben the coniniand was given for the Lhiited States to 
"b'orward inarch!" it was in San l"'raneisco that the march 
began. It was there that a new race assumed control; the 
blending ol' all that was good in all the states, made a distinct 
race there, and if it did spoil women and children, it was of 
itself the best ever. It made pt^ssible a new order of man- 
hood; it made the city that it built a hallowed spot, and it will 
continue to l)e such to those who watched its first growth, as 
long as they remain on this side; and to those who anticipate a 
ha\cMi of rest, in their deeper thoughts i)ictin"e il as something 
such as tlu' carK San h'rancisco was, only with fewer saloons 
anad \\u ire lli i\\ eis. 



rilK SACRAMKN K) UNION. 



Tl I I', l\l''. arc tiiiics when the Uuij^iblc woik of iiifii is made 
Im shine niii ill a form which is a splendor, tlionj^h ihe 
men lose their individnal i)ersf)nahty in performing that 
work, and the work itself lakes on a personality of its own. 

Anthony, Morrill and Lai km, I helieve, foun<led the Sac- 
I anient') I'liioii. i.arkin was a trained newspaper man, and 
we have heard that Anthony and Morrill were in yonth ecjm- 
positors.hnt of this we are not sure. I'nl they awakened a \oice 
in California, thai had tones in it which early attrac-tcfj alien 
lion. And thai voice kept sonndin^ on and on with ever- 
iiicreasinj^'' volume and powei- Ihronj^'h all the formative years 
in the life of ( ahfoniia, iiiilil al la-l il hec.-ime an enchanlmeiit 
I have no knowledj^e rtf any othei- snch j(Hirnal as the Sacra- 
nienlo (Iiiioii between the years 1X54 and 1863. 

I know of no jomiial thai had the same inflnence upon the 
piihlic. Most of tjiose years were stormy years in California. 
I he admission of California as a free state, ^^reatly incensed 
ihc men of the old sj.ive stales who leaned upon John C. 
Calhoun as their ideal of both liii^li manhood and profound 
-latesmanship. 'I houj^h the coii\(nlioii that framerl the fnst 
I onstitnlioii of ("alifornia contained a majority of southern 
men. when the (|iicsiion of slavery or freedom for the state 
caiiie lip, with hiil one dissent inj.,^ \'ole, the stale was conse- 
crated to freedom forever. 

When the news of this reached Washington, and the 
constitution was presented with the appeal foi" admission into 
the Union. Mr. ( !alhoun led the op|>osition to admission with a 
Kind of fin\'. It was his last fij.,dil. Me rose from what may 
he callecl his dyinj.; hed to waLjc it. which j.;ave it ;i pathos 
that touched many southern hearts. 

The f|iicstion hunj.^ in the balaiue for several weeks. I hit 
at last the new state was admitted, and my Indief has always 
heen that it was then that secession was determined upon, that 



80 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

preparations for it began then, and the only waiting thereafter 
was for some event on which a plausible excuse could be for- 
mulated, on which to precipitate the crisis. And though the 
constitution had been ratified by the men of the Golden State, 
as a rule the "Chivalry" wing of the southern men in that 
state endorsed the position of the southern leaders in the east, 
and politics became stormy in California at once. 

Then, too, the old Whig party was disintegrating. The 
Democratic party at last was rent in twain ; the extreme 
southern men flocked by themselves, and of the old Whigs a 
part joined the northern Democrats, while a few formed a 
nucleus of a California Republican party corresponding with 
the Republican party that had been launched in the east. 

In the meantime, the Sacramento Union had drawn to it 
the enthusiastic support and affection of all northern California. 
It was an independent journal and discussed all questions with 
perfect candor and without fear. In the early fifties there 
were many camps in California so high in the Sierras that they 
were only reached by trails, and in others the roads were 
blocked for several months each winter by snow. To these 
onlv the express companies carried communications — often in 
w'inter on snow shoes. They charged 25 cents to deliver a 
newspaper. Often and often in many a one of those camps 
when the express arrived, all that was brought was a package 
of letters and a great roll of Sacramento Unions. The miners 
called the paper their bible. That hold the paper never lost, 
up to the closing of the Civil war. 

It was conducted with a judgment and ability which no 
other journal in the state could command, and then there was 
a charm about it which drew men irresistibly to it. It was 
always optimistic about California; while glorying in the pres- 
ent it was always pointing to the higher destiny which it must 
attain and all the time it was as broad as the Republic itself, 
while it met every local question, commercial, social, or polit- 
ical, with the directness of intuition and the full grace of 
inspiration. During the two or three stormy years preceding 
the outbreak of the rebellion, it was most masterful in shaping 
public opinion, and when the war burst upon the country, "one 



TllK SACRAMEXTO L'XION. 81 

blast upon that buckle horn was worth a thousand men" everv 
morning". 

At that time, a gentleman named Watson was the editor- 
in-chief. I never saw him. but was told at the time that he 
possessed an almost supernatural intellect, but was a sla\e to 
strong drink. However that may be, there were no such edi- 
torials as his published in any paper, east or west. As the war 
riouds grew darker and darker, those editorials grew more 
'•mmanding and incisive every morning and at the same time 
liere was a beauty about them that kindled in men's hearts 
and souls a zealous patriotism not to be measured. I do not 
know that the paper held California in the Union, but 1 am sure 
that had there been such a journal on the other side, it would 
have carried the state out. or at least made of it a battle ground 
that would have left it as badly scarred as was Virginia. 

The men who conducted the paper were ne\er known to 
thousands of its readers, but the journal itself became a dis- 
tinct personality to them ; they thought of it as something with 
a mind all masterful, with a voice which to them was sweeter 
than a woman's. 

When the war was over, it took up the works of peace. 
It had for years been the advocate of the transcontinental rail- 
road, and w'ith the close of the war it renewed its labors for 
that enterprise and was a marvelous help to its projectors and 
builders. 

But when the road made the connection with the Union 
Pacific at Promontory in 1869, and the policy of its builders 
became fully understood, the U)iio)i called a halt upon them. 

It had given all its support to Leland Stanford when he 
was a candidate for governor and through his administra- 
tion : it had given the great enterprise its masterful support, but 
when its owners and managers began to use it as merely an 
instrument for their own aggrandizement, and worse, when 
they entered politics and dictated who should and who should 
not hold the offices, the IJiiioii turned upon them with a vehem- 
ence that they could not endure. The company established a 
pa])er modeled exactly after the Union in size, type, paper and 
niakc-u]). engaged brilliant men to conduct it. and closed their 



82 AS I REMEMBER THE^I. 

cars ag-ainst the Union. In the meantime, the company had 
built the inside road to Los Angeles and San Diego and branch 
roads in every direction. It forbade the paper on the cars, 
closed every possible avenue against the great journal and 
finally reduced it below the paying point and forced the owners 
to sell for a pittance, when it was merged with the railroad 
paper and became the Record-Union. 

Its death was simply the result of a hired and premedi- 
tated assassination and it was killed by the money and power 
it had so ably aided the railroad owners to accumulate. 

But the cowardly methods by which its death was com- 
passed, can never take from it the splendor of the fame which 
it created for itself. It was more to California for fifteen years 
after the admission of the state into the Union than any other 
single agency ; California never realized how much it owed to 
it, and never can make good that debt. But the graves of the 
old owners and editors of it should be hallowed ground in the 
Golden State, and be marked in such a way that Californians 
to the last generation should be taught to revere it. 

And could all the journalism in any state be modeled 
after the Sacramento Union as it was from 1856 to 1865, there 
would be no question of what the ruling power in that state 
would be. It would be the mouthpiece of the people ; their 
reliance, they would know that it was not controlled bv anv 
commercial considerations; no selfish ambition; that a just 
cause would always find in it a champion; that all the gold 
that could be offered could never induce it to further an unjust 
scheme or dishonest measure ; that while working for a live- 
lihood it was at the same time working for everything of good 
and against everything of evil, and that the people's weal and 
the state's progress were ever uppermost in its thought, and 
so the people's hearts would be enlisted, and it would become 
to them both a protector and an inspiration. 



NEWTON BOOTH. 

WHEN California was filled with great men. there was 
a merchant in Sacramento who for a time was not 
heeded among his fellow men as aught but one of 
the class of merchant princes of which there were many in the 
state, and of which Sacramento contained a full quota. 

But there came a time when the people were unusually 
interested in a question and one night at a public meeting this 
merchant arose and made a brief address. It was published 
the next day in the papers and then it suddenly dawned upon 
thousands that a scholar and marvelous thinker had been found. 
That was Newton Booth. A man above the average size, fair 
complexion, brown hair and blue eyes, as we recall him. Then 
he began to be called for oftener and oftener and was soon a 
factor in public life. When the Republican party was launched 
in California he was one of the prominent sponsors. He was 
as eloquent as he was profound. 

When the project of building a transcontinental railroad 
was launched in earnest, he was its ablest supporter, and the 
work he did in its behalf was altogether magnificent. 

That tlie old Central Pacific company was able to obtain 
a great subsidy from Sacramento and Eldorado counties and 
San Francisco was more due to Newton Booth than any other 
one man. 

Next to Colonel Baker, he was the most powerful expo- 
nent of Republican party principles among the orators of the 
state. But he relied wholly upon argument. He could bring 
none of the magnetism of Baker to the work ; none of the light- 
ning flashes of that inspired soul, but he talked merely as an 
earnest American. 

After awhile he was nominated for governor and cam- 
paigned the state. His speeches were classics of their kind. 
He stood for Americanism in its highest sense, and for the 
equal rights and equal opportunities of every American citizen. 

He was triumphantly elected and for four years held the 



84 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

liigh office with signal ability, until his name l^ecame a syn- 
onym for perfect integrity and for absolute justice under 
the law. 

In the election of United States senators there had been 
combinations, deals, and no end of stock-jobbing. 

When Booth was appealed to as the logical candidate for 
the place and urged to run for the office, his reply was: "It is 
an exalted office, it is as it was in old Rome wdien to be a sen- 
ator was greater than to be a king, but, gentlemen, if the office 
in California is to cost one unworthy promise or implied prom- 
ise, or one tainted dollar, count me out in the very inception. 
If a majority of the legislature of California should, of their 
free wdll, unbiased and untrammeled, decide to bestow the 
honor of that office upon me, I should appreciate it as no man 
ever did before, but on no other terms would I accept it, for if 
I ever go to W'ashington as a senator I must take ni}^ full self- 
respect with me, and must have the full approval of my own 
conscience. 

He was triumphantly elected, and mingled with the good- 
byes when he went away were a thousand expressions that 
"next time we will send you as president." 

But that was practically the end. He made no mark in the 
senate. Where so much was expected, nothing was realized. 
We cannot recall one act or speech of his in the senate Avorth 
recital. 

It w^as worse than Senator Nye's account of the first speech 
of Senator Casserly of California. As Nye told it, whenCasserly 
was elected, the senators gathered around him and asked who 
this Casserly of California Avas whom the legislature of that 
state had elected senator, Nye told them that he was a graduate 
of the University of Dublin, that then in the most rigid schools 
he had graduated as a lawyer ; that he had enjoyed a great 
practice for years in his profession in San Francisco, was a 
most profound scholar and renowned law^yer, and his coming- 
would be a distinct addition to the senate. 

What follows is in Nye's ow'n words as nearly as we can 
recall them : 

"He came on to \\'ashington and took his seat. After a 



NI<:\\'J()X IJUUiil. 85 

few days, before he got his sea legs under him at all. some petty 
fjuestion was sprung upon the senate, a question that no one. 
no matter how gifted, could make a speech on when, to my 
surprise, the new senator rose to his feet. The president of 
the senate at once recognized him and he began to speak. He 
could not say anything ; no one could on such a theme, but he 
stumbled along, and I was searching the marble floor for a 
knot-hole to fall through. An inch hole would have been big 
L-nough. Finally I looked up and Thurman of Ohio, in wiping 
his face waved his red bandana toward me. and I followed him 
f)ut to a cloak room. Arrived there. Thurman said: "Jim, 
have you any letters patent about your clothes to prove that 
you are nc^t a d — d old fool?' And I announced humbly. 'Not 
a letter. Not a letter, Allen.' " 

^^'hen his term was out Booth returned to his business in 
Sacramento, but a great silence closed around him. 

After awhile it was told that he was ill of an incurable 
malady, and a little later he died. We never heard any close 
friend of his try to account for the swift change that came 
upon him. We never heard of a parallel case. He was the 
same to all outward appearances ; in conversation he was the 
same ; there was no hint that his brain was giving way ; there 
was no sign that any great disappointment or anything like a 
heart wound had come to him ; but the essence of life had gone 
out. He had simply quit. It must have been that the insidious 
disease of which he died, had in its first stages paralyzed either 
his courage or his mental energies, but whatever it was, he died 
long before he ceased to breathe. 

To show his style, we give the closing paragraph of one of 
his political speeches, as follows: 

"What is our country? It is not the land and the sea, the 
river and the mountain, the people, their history and laws. It 
is something more than all of these. It is a bright ideal, a 
living presence in the heart, whose destruction would rob the 
earth of beauty, the stars of their glory, the sun of its bright- 
ness, life of its sweetness, love and joy. My countrymen, cher- 
ish this ideal. It will exalt you as you exalt it. Make it your 
cloud by day. your pillar of fire by night. 



J. E. ''LUCKY" BALDWIN. 

NO ONE has ever yet given a clear idea of "Lucky" 
Baldwin. Who can? Tall, and strong, and swarthy, 
his eyes sometimes blazing like a fiery Spaniard's, 
sometimes deep and sullen as a Pottawattamie ; not much faith 
in the average man, looking on most women as schemers — 
he must have been the child of parents who cared little for each 
other and to whom his birth brought little joy. Still there was 
plenty of red blood in his veins and a rude integrity and fierce 
pride gave him the respect of business men. Moreover, there 
was a strata of generosity in him which, as is often seen in 
'some mineral formations, was prone to crop out in real gold 
in unexpected places. 

He reached California early in the fifties, with little save 
his hands and his brains, but that did not disturb him, for he 
possessed a dauntless courage. Moreover, he had no false 
pride; he was ready to engage in any work which was 
honorable, and he believed that with his capacity and industry 
he could forge out for himself a place among men. 

He made a stake by contracting in San Francisco ; then 
lost most of it. How, no one seemed to know, but all agree 
that when the Comstock was found, he had little. He went 
there early, and his subsequent career for fifteen years is a 
pretty good indication that he had been a chance-taker in every- 
thing that came along, from lottery tickets to mining shares. 

He had been in Virginia City but a brief time when he 
began nibbling at stocks, then to plunging in them. 

But he was harder student than he had ever been before 
and he knew the Comstock as he did his alphabet, from the 
Sierra Nevada to the Justice. 

He steadily made money and steadily invested it where 
he believed that his dollars would multiply fast. He had large 
interests on the Comstock and in California and finally ob- 
tained the control of the Ophir. 

In some way he had about $40,000 in a Los Angeles bank. 



J. E. "LUCKV BALDW IX. S7 

It was said he loaned it to a friend and had no security save a 
mortgage on a wild tract of 22,000 acres of land some few 
miles from Los Angeles. He was obliged to take the land at 
last for the debt, when it could not have been sold for fifty 
cents an acre. 

But that ranch gave him the title of "Lucky" Baldwin, 
for a railroad crept down there at last, then another, and south- 
ern California began to boom and the Santa Anita ranch 
became a principality. 

I met him once in San Francisco and he did me the honor 
to ask me to "come down and spend a month on the ranch." 
Continuing, he said, "There's a lot of horses, steppers and 
flyers, saddles and buggies, cattle, sheep, fruits and flowers of 
all kinds, enough to keep you enjoying yourself for a month or 
six weeks." 

Then I asked him what he raised on his ranch, and his 
reply was : "Every blamed thing in the world, except the mort- 
gages." 

This was in the early eighties, after the place had become 
famous. 

He left the Comstock in the late sixties to make his home 
in San Francisco — to mine the Comstock — from the other 
end — on the stock board. 

In the early seventies Mr. Sharon wanted the Ophir in 
his business and his battle with Baldwin for the control was 
a battle royal, and Sharon won. 

Baldwin's financial weapon was an old-fashioned musket. 
Sharon's a rapid-fire magazine gun : but in addition Sharon had 
much the heavier reserves. 

The Ophir's proximity to the California and the indica- 
tions of a bonanza in the latter was the impelling force which 
made both men fight for the control. 

It was no wonder either: a few months later California 
advanced from $35 per share to a figure which was equivalent 
to $12,000 per inch for the whole length of the mine. 

In those days Baldwin accumulated a great fortune, built 
the Baldwin Hotel and theatre and gathered in propertv in 
half a dozen states and trritories. 



88 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

He stocked the Santa Anita ranch with blood horses, 
the very finest that could be found by scouring the world for 
them. His ambition was to have finer and fleeter race horses 
than any other man. 

It was. too, a labor of love with him, for he revealed 
more affection for some of those animals than he had ever 
shown for anything else in his life. His friends declare that 
when the finest one of them all died, Baldwin's heart was 
broken, and he never had a \\ell day afterward. 

A\dien a great fortune came to him, many an adventuress 
sought his acquaintance. He knew their object ; he was 
restrained by no sense of propriety, no regard for public 
opinion, no chivalrous regard for womanhood, and it was not 
long until he took the blackguard's idea that "every woman 
had her price." 

He was the only man that we ever heard of who plead 
in answer to a complaint filed against him, that his public 
reputation was such that every woman who came near him 
must have been warned against him in advance. 

Though destitute of sensibility and callous against criti- 
cism, the poison of the reputation he made for himself in that 
regard, at last penetrated his mind and his bitterness and 
smothered wrath against the world and himself gave a sombre 
shadoAv to his last days, which was a reminder of a wounded 
lion, his confident roar hushed forever, going limping to his lair 
to growl and die. 

But "Lucky" Baldwin had a wonderful brain, immense 
sagacity and solid judgment; he could grasp a business propo- 
sition instantly and by an intuition all his own trace from a 
cause to an inevitable effect with lightning swiftness ; while 
on the other hand he grasped with equal celerity a pure gam- 
ble and wagered what the chances were to win. 

And he was ready for either proposition at all times. 

He was, moreover, a most shrewd judge of character. 

He could describe in three sentences either of the strong 
men around him in those tremendous days of speculation when 
the arena was filled with giants and every one was a trained 
financial g-ladiator. 



J. K. "LL'CKV" P.ALDWIX. 89 

In his methods he was more like Jim Keene than any of 
the others; he could neither be fri^^htened nor bullied; he as a 
rule held his g-ambling instinct in leash by his steady jud,^ment, 
but when he did gamble in earnest, no chance was desperate 
enough to make him shrink from taking it. 

It is idle to say what, under gentler influence and different 
associations and conditions, he might have been, for no one 
can tell. As it was, he. with no discipline in his youth, with no 
great moral [)rinciples to hold him in restraint, was tossed upon 
the west coast just when a new epoch was to usher in the metal- 
lic age, when the age of scholarship and statesmanship and con- 
servative business methods were to be subordinated to money, 
and men's respectability and power were to be estimated by 
their bank accounts, and the place which has to be his field was 
that winsome city by the Gate of Gold, where restraints were 
few. where the very air was a tonic to eager men's brains and 
extravagance in thought and act w^as the rule. 

It was there that he was tossed, there with his (|uick 
brain, his tireless energy, his splendid courage, his impatience 
of all restraint, and his absence of all moral restrictions e.xcept 
his rude integrity in business matters. 

And he gloried in the work. His great love for blood 
horses, we suspect, was because in a race they wou'd go to the 
last limit of their strength to wMn. and we doubt not that as he 
watched them he was crooning to himself : "That is likeRequa's 
fight for the Norcross ; like Johnnie Skae's wrestle with the 
Sierra Nevada; like Sharon's first fight to stand off D. O. 
Mills, when he wanted the bank to desert the Comstock." so 
through his horses he could live over again his feverish career. 

Still it all passed in a few brief years, and there is nothing 
left him but a lonely grave, and one looking upon it and think- 
ing what the occupant might have been and done with his 
opportunities and gifts, cannot shake off the thought that the 
Angel of Pity comes to it and sheds tears ujjon it every day. 



A 



*'JIM" GILLIS. 

FORTY-NINER was Jim — one of the typical ones. 
From Mississippi, I believe; a brother of our Stevie 
Gilh's of the Enterprise, in Virginia City. Stevie was 
younger and came to the coast later. Stevie's first venture 
was to go from San Francisco to Oregon, about 1858, with 
Long Primer Hall, and start a secession newspaper. I believe 
only one edition was published. How Stevie got back to San 
Francisco I never learned. I asked him once how long his 
paper lasted. His reply was : "Not very long, but at one time 
I thought it was liable to outlast me." On returning to San 
Francisco and, dressed in his best, he went a few days later to 
the polls to vote. There was no registration in those days. 
Almost everybody voted. But on this occasion a big fel- 
low, a Democrat, challenged his vote. Stevie was a little man, 
his opponent a big one, but the trouble began at once. Instead 
of stopping the battle, the crowd gathered around the two and 
began to make wagers on the outcome. Stevie walked home, 
but did not appear for three or four days. His opponent was 
carried home and was in retirement for two weeks. When 
Stevie did appear he came out an intense Republican. 

I asked him what caused the change in his political views, 
reminding him that the man had a perfect right to challenge 
him. "Why, the blankety blank blank drove a scavenger 
wagon, and I would no longer belong to a party that employed 
such an agent," was his reply. 

Well, Jim was Stevie's elder brother. When he reached 
California he went prospecting, and early in the fifties found 
a placer mine up in Tuolumne country, and bought or pre- 
empted a cabin that had been built in '49. I said cabin, but it 
was really a house, or it was when I saw it I suspect that 
Gillis had made one end of the original '49 cabin a home sta- 
tion and extended it. 

It was a typical '49 house, a board house, set on upright 
posts, which raised it some twelve inches above the g-round. 



"JIM" GILLIS. 91 

I spent a couple of clays and nights in it in the early 
eighties, and it was well preserved ; the rooms most ingeniously 
arranged and well furnished. 

I carried a letter from Stevie and was cordially welcomed 
l)y Jim. A few minutes later two or three fine dogs came in 
and introduced themselves and seemed to be trying to convince 
mc that they were glad I had come. 

A little later there was a great commotion under the 
house, and Gillis explained that his dogs and rabbits were 
having their usual romp before retiring for the night. 

I asked him if the dogs and rabbits were on friendly terms 
and he answered, "Oh. yes ; they grew up together and have 
been running mates all their lives." 

Of course, the placer had been worked out early, but in 
the meantime Gillis had found a quartz mine near and had 
been working it in a primitive way several years when I visited 
him. 

It was what miners call a pockety mine, little bodies of ore 
interspersed in other bodies that were valueless. A\'hen a bodv 
of ore was found Gillis was in bonanza and picked up some- 
times a few hundred, sometimes a few thousand dollars rapidlv. 

About once a year he went to San Francisco on a visit ; as 
he said, "to see the fashions and buy some more books." He 
had many a rare volume ; read them all and knew their sub- 
stance and was bold enough to dispute any proposition that 
he found in them where he thought the author had failed in 
either principle, consistency or logic. 

And he had a way of excusing the authors, explaining 
that when they wrote they had thought out only half their 
theme. 

This was intensely interesting, for while talking he 
seemed unconscious of the fact that he unwittinglv was giving 
away the other fact that he had explored the same theme to 
its source. 

After dinner on that first day he asked me to go with him 
to see his garden. 

He had fenced off about three acres under a big spring 
and planted a garden. 



92 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

He had a few vegetables, a good deal of fruit and a world 
of flowers. Along the line of one fence he had planted a great 
variety of berries, and the bushes were, perhaps, five feet in 
height. 

Suddenly he stopped in his walk and asked me if I had 
ever seen a mountain quail on her nest. 

I replied that I had not, and that I had always understood 
they were untamable. "Oh," said he; "they don't care any- 
thing about me." With that he went to a near-by shrub, 
parted the branches with both hands and there, not a foot from 
his hands, not sixteen inches from his face, a mother quail 
sat serenely on her nest, looking confidently up into his face, 
without one symptom of fear. 

A beautiful Gordon setter dog squatted beside him, look- 
ing on placidly, showing that he understood that the quail was 
one of the family and must not be disturbed. 

The cabin was in the big ])ines, the mountains rose like 
temples in the background and far away to the east, across the 
range, the setting sun was turning to purple the crest of Mount 
Bodie. 

I did not ask him if he was ever lonely, for I knew that 
he was not. He had his books, his daily papers, his dogs, his 
rabbits, his birds and his flowers ; his mine, which he worked 
a little daily, and the murmur of the breeze in the big pines to 
go to sleep by. 

There was nothing of the hermit's exclusiveness about 
the place. There were no locks on the doors or the cupboard, 
all passers-by were welcome and moreover, he was an author- 
ity in that region. People brought their troubles and differ- 
ences to him for advice or adjustment and there were no ap- 
peals from his decisions. 

Then, too, though living there alone, he was fully abreast 
of all current events, as given day by day through the news- 
papers, and would drop shrewd remarks as he discussed them. 
If there was a trace of bitterness or prejudice in his son!, he 
kept it hid. 

On the first night we sat up late discussing all manner of 
subjects. The conversation finallv turned to the writers on 



"JLM" Gll.LlS. 93 

the coast and to those wlio had made good. I mentioned the 
name of Bret Harte, when (iilHs said: "P>rc't Marte is an un- 
pleasant memory to me. He came here once, ragged and hnn- 
grv. and with that despair upon him which often attends upon 
genius wlien every door seems closed and there is no practical 
talent to forge out an independent path. He remained here 
a week, and when he was leaving I gave him $50 and told him 
that the mountains ofTered him nothing — to go to San h^-an- 
cisco and irv. that he ctmld forge out a place for himself 
among the newspapers. 

"Some months later I went to San Francisco. In the 
meantiiue Harte had become famous, was at the head of a 
prosperous journal and praise of his genius was heard every- 
where. 

"I was sincerely glad and went to his office to congratulate 
him. He received me very stiffly and coldly and showed very 
plainly that he was bored by my presence. T was not dressed 
like a bridegroom and my hands had not been manicured 
that (lay. 

"I retired in as good order as I could and all that night 
was thinking what a deuce of a fraud this old world is. 

"But ne.xt day 1 went back to the newspaper office, walked 
straight into the presence of Harte and said to him, "I would 
like that fifty dollars which you got from me. Mr. Harte." 

"He touched a bell, a messenger came, to whom he said, 

'Please tell Mr. to send me a check for fifty dollars. The 

messenger soon returned and handed him the check. He en- 
dorsed it and handed it to me. 1 took it and said, "Don't mis- 
understand me, Mr. Harte: T was glad to give you that money. 
f ha\e been glad cverv time I have thought of it since, think- 
ing that it was a real favor to you. I did not loan it to you. 
I gave it to vou, marking it off my books. I have rejoiced to 
hear of vour success since, and cnne here yesterday for no 
nurpose excejit to congratulate you. ^^>ur reception changed 
my mind in some respects. 

"Before I fell aslcej) last night my soul was saying to me: 
'Gillis, is it true that you permitted a dirty scrub to get the 



94 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

best of you?' That is why I came back this morning, ^^'e are 
even now. Good morning, sir." 

The Cabin of GilHs was three miles from Tnttletown. To 
catch the stage one had to be there at 6 a. m. 

I wanted to go the previous evening, but GiUis said there 
were no hotels worth the name, that he would wake me in time 
in the morning. So at 3 :30 a. m. I was up, had breakfast and 
was ready to start. Gillis put on his hat and said : "The 
woods are full of trails. You might take a wrong one, besides 
I want my mail. I will show you the w'ay." 

It was in the late summer and there was no light but the 
stars, as we took the trail. Gillis strode on in advance on the 
trail, talking pleasantly until a flash of light shot upward in 
the east, the first light of the dawn and a bird off through the 
mighty forest sounded her call. 

Gillis forgot me in a moment, and answered the bird's 
good morning with a cheery response, calling the singer by 
name and praising her for being the first bird to awake. 

An instant later from another direction came the second 
hail from an awakening bird, and Gillis responded, calling her 
by name, then the calls came oftener and oftener and Gillis 
named each one, praising some, chiding others, calling others 
hypocrites for pretending to be early birds. He upbraided the 
lark for the false reputation she claimed as the first to hail 
the dawn; cautioned the mourning dove not to take so sad a 
view of things considering who her mate was, called the owl, 
the burglar of the woods going home with his mournful "too 
who." as though he had merely been out visiting friends, when 
in truth he had been raiding the woods for field mice all night. 

All this went on until the stars melted away, the shad- 
ows fled from the deep woods, the full dawn turned the forest 
to emerald and gold and the air was resonant with music from 
the full orchestra of the birds. 

Poor Jim, he has passed on, but if in Summer lan^l there 
are no birds, no flowers, no music, there is one spirit there sor- 
rowing that it cannot get back to the old cabin in Tuolumne 
county, where the air is soft, where the flowers bloom and 
the birds sing all the day long. 



WILLIAM LENT. 

B^' William Lent, I mean the man that every old miner 
in Nevada knew as "Uncle Billie Lent." He was an 
argonaut and soon after reaching San Francisco became 
a wholesale merchant on Front street in that city. He was 
a shrewd merchant and marie money. But in those days he 
could not tie himself down to the daily round of a merchant's 
life. When a ship sailed from New York, or Boston, or Phil- 
adelphia, or any other Atlantic or Gulf coast, for San Fran- 
cisco a copy of her manifest was mailed to San Francisco. 
These were published in San Francisco and also the houses to 
which they were consigned. 

Then the merchants and brokers would buy or sell these 
cargoes to arrive: would buy or sell long or short according 
to the stock on hand of the same articles in San Francisco, and 
according to the respective ships on which the cargoes were 
coming, for they knew the reputation of the different ships, as 
fast or slow sailors, and when a new ship sailed, from the 
descriptions given of them by the eastern papers, they would 
make wagers on the time of its arrival. 

In those days for a long time a new clipper came every 
month or two. and each was a greater marvel than its prede- 
cessor. There was great excitement when the Sovereign of the 
Seas came in, for there had never been quite so grand a ship as 
she ever built before. She made the voyage from New York 
in ninety-seven days, and the freight paid on her first cargo 
returned to her owners the full cost of the ship. 

The Flying Cloud was another wonder. She made her 
first voyage in eighty-nine days. But she was favored. When 
reaching Cape Horn, instead of meeting the fierce western 
winds that held many a ship off the Horn for si.x weeks, she 
caught a gale from the east and her daring commander 
crowded on all sail and made 374 miles in twenty-four hours. 

Mrs. Cressy. the commander's wife, was on board and 
tolfl a friend on reaching San Francisco that on that dav the 



96 • AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

cabin was dark half the time because of the seas pouring over 
the ship, and at times was dark so long that she thought it 
would never be light any more for those on the ship. 

The Trade Wind was another of those wonderful ships. 
She struck something after rounding the Horn that stopped the 
ship dead still for a moment. A moment later a whale, cut 
half in two. appeared for a moment on the surface of the 
sea and reddened all the water around with blood. 

When the ship was docked in San Francisco bay it was 
found that all the copper from bow to keel had lieen torn off. 

The most beautiful of all those clippers, and one of the 
fleetest, was the Flying Fish. But there were scores of them. 
It requires a good many ships to carry all the supplies needed 
by 300.000 people, when the voyages are 13.000 miles long. 

Those were the days when our merchant marine was the 
pride of the seas : when our ships were the fairest and fleetest 
that had ever been seen, and when their tonnage exceeded that 
of any other nation, not excepting Great Britain. 

When the Crimean war came. Great Britain chartered one 
of those clippers — the Great Republic — to carry men, horses 
and war munitions to Constantinople. Loaded at Plymouth 
with a regiment of men, five hundred horses, and a thousand 
tons of freight, the ship started from Plymouth, England, 
with a steam cruiser to convoy her. When outside the harbor 
she put on sail. The cruiser had to signal her to slow down ; it 
could not take her pace. 

Uncle Billie Lent found plenty of excitement, in keeping 
tabs on the stocks of goods on hand, on the average monthly 
sales, and on the cargoes to arrive, and he turned many a penny 
to his own advantage by being shrewder or more lucky than 
his neighbors. 

There were plenty of others doing the same. Ordinary 
California houses in those days, instead of being plastered, were 
lined with canvas, which was held in place by tacks. One genius 
saw by looking at the manifests of ships to arrive that there 
would be no more tacks reach San Francisco for five or six 
months. He bought all there were on hand and made a little 
fortune. That he was being anathematized all over California 



WTT.TJAM T.F.XT. 97 

\vliere\cr a cU>tli ceiling- or jiartition was beint;' tacked up did 
not disturb bis rest at all. 

\\ ben tbe Conistock was discovered and sbarcs ai)i)cared 
on sale. I'ncle Ibllie Lent was ready to take on some new 
(legrees. 

He was a soft-\"oiced. kimlly man, made friends every- 
ubere and. moreoxer, in business was dead bonest, and bis 
word was everywbere accepted as a certified cbeck. 

He bad a tbousand qenerous ways. If be rode on tbe 
stage from Placerville ov Dutcb bdat to Virginia Citv, (jn get- 
ting down from tbe stage be would by s'ealtb pass up a twenty- 
dollar piece to tbe driver. 

He would toucb a friend on tbe sboulder and say: "Opbir 
is looking^ ])retty well : 1 put aside fifty sbares at tbirtv dollars 
for }ou tbis morning. W'ben it toucbes fort\ I bebeve you 
bad better sell." 

Result: be always bad bis cboice of seats on tbe stage. 
W'ben tlie rusb was great and some passengers bad to book 
rdiead. I'ncle Billie could always get a seat. It wouUl bave 
been a poor agent or driver w'bo would not ba\e made an 
afiidavit, if necessary, tbat Uncle Billie bad engaged tbe seat 
for tbat day a week before. And if any stirring man wbo 
kept bis finger on tbe pulse of tbe market and on tbe condi- 
tions of tbe lower levels in the mines got wbat be tbougbt was 
a pointer, be carried it to Uncle Billie. 

He wrestled witb tbe sbarp dealers on tbe Comstock and 
in San I'rancisco and was able to say as tbe dying Californian 
did to bis wife : "Tell tbe boys tbat T tbink T lias bested as many 
as has bested me:" for despite tbe soft voice and tbe genial, 
generous ways of I'ncle Billie. be was as sbrewd as tbe very 
sharpest of them. 

He and George Hearst were associated for a time, Init 
that was before ITearst made bis alliance with Haggin and 
Tevis and he bad not money enough to work in tbe same team 
witb Uncle Billie. 

Mr. Lent dealt constantly in C'oiustock stocks for ten 
years, and as before be wagered oti tbe speed and cargoes of 



98 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

clipper ships, so he every day, so to speak, took the sun of the 
Comstock as the mariner does the noonday sun at sea. 

He knew all the mines and all the managers. When 
some of the managers made a statement of conditions he 
wagered that it was true, when a few others made statements 
of what was and what must be in the immediate future, he 
unloaded all the stocks he had in the company and sold short 
as many more. 

When Mineral Hill had been opened a certain depth and 
halted for want of funds to procure machinery, on the advice 
of Joe Farren he put his shoulder to the company and helped 
the owners through, taking his fair commission, of course. 
Mineral Hill was a porphyry vein in granite, and to those who 
understood the formation, it was always safe to estimate its 
value down to the lowest point that the porphyry was explored, 
the belief being that at any time the underlying rock would 
mark the depth of -the porphyry and the ore body. But the 
porphyry held good for 1200 feet in depth and yielded several 
millions of dollars. 

When Buel and Bateman obtained their option on Eureka 
Con. at Eureka, Farren joined with them, and Uncle Billie 
backed Buel and Bateman, and the result was a splendid 
success. 

But Uncle Billie's greatest triumph was at Bodie, south 
of Carson, but on the east side of the Sierras in California. He 
opened and equipped a mine there which for three or four years 
was more like a mint than a mine. No one except Mr. Lent's 
heirs knows how much money he made there, but it was a 
vast fortune. 

He must have been close upon eighty years of age at the 
time, but "age had not withered him nor custom staled" his 
genial nature, his shrewdness, or his tireless energy. 

Most of the bonanza kings had many enemies. It is a 
habit of mankind, when they see a fellow man accumulate a 
great fortune, no matter how fairly, to brood over it, and 
many grow to believe that if the world's gifts had been fairly 
divided, no one man could have gathered to himself so much 
treasure. 



WILLIAM LENT. 99 

I never heard of any one who had that feehng toward 
Mr. Lent. When a man is called Billie Lent in his youth, 
Uncle Billie Lent in middle age, and old Uncle Billie in his old 
age, those are all indications that he has the love near him and 
the admiration and kindly thoughts of thousands who never 
clasped his hand. 

So while Uncle Billie was as sharp as the sharpest, while 
in business he never asked any odds of any one ; he managed 
to hold his own ; to line his path with charities, to say gen- 
erous and hopeful words to those less successful than himself; 
to draw to him in splendid loyalty such men as he needed to 
work out his enterprises, and if he had any enemies I never 
heard of them. 

This was because he was ahvays manly and frank and 
candid ; he had no false pride ; every man met him on equal 
terms — a pair of overalls was as fine as a dress suit with him 
if the right man was inside the overalls. 

He died in San Francisco many years ago away past the 
eighties, but he is still affectionately remembered there. 

]\Iy thought is if where he is he is as he was when 
riding on the coaches here — he has the choice of seats, and if 
he had his pick of places, there is a phantom ocean bearing 
ghostly ships into their haven, and spectral mountains in the 
background that contain celestial ores, and that he divides his 
eternity making wagers of what ghostly ship is nearing the 
offing, and counting on the news that the next ethereal aero- 
plane will bring down from the mines. 

In the meanwhile all the neighboring ghosts are wont to 
gather near to hear his ghost tell of the lively times he had on 
the Comstock and how, in his old age. he scooped all the young 
men when he took in the mine at Bodie. 



TOD ROBINSON. 

HI-'. WAS not just like any of the others of the Argo- 
nauts. A matured man wlicn he reached the west 
coast : a fine scholar, an eminent la\v\ er, an orator 
most careftil in his selection of lan^uai^e. always in a puhlic 
address to adjust himself to his audience; at home talkini;- to 
a company of farmers, thoui^h he had hut vague ideas oi a 
farmer's life, hut leaving an impression upon his hearers that 
a great farmer was spoileil when he hecame a lawyer ; most 
intense in his sectional prejudices, hut veiling them all in his 
dealings with men: imperious in his self-consciousness, hut in 
his life meeting all men as though, to him. they were all on 
the same plane, he managed to dnxw to him the confidence and 
generallv the atlection of all persims hrought in contact with 
him. 

T ne\"er cmild explain his motixes lo my own satisfaction, 
hut I presume that his thought was much the same as that of 
the great Hlucher of Prussia. He had a theory that there were 
onlv two kinds of men in the world, those whom we might 
call thoroughbreds and those who might be rated under the 
general term of mustangs ; that the first were entitletl to all 
courtesies because of the blood in their veins, no matter what 
might be their personal foibles; the otliers as not worth dis- 
citssing pedigrees with. He was a distinguished lawyer in 
California, up in the front rank with r>aker. Randolph. Felton. 
McAllister and the rest, and he maintained his place when the 
magnitude of the fees and the tremendous importance of the 
issues to lie decided drew that shining galaxy of legal talent 
to the Comstock in the hrst four years of the life of the great 
lode. 

Then he was a most interesting speaker on any theme. 
though with him a speech was always a serious matter. He 
seldom attempted to mingle the least huuK^r in a public speech, 
rarely permitting his imagination any play in rounding a 
period, or illunn'nating a sentence. He depended upon the cold 



TOD konixsox. 101 

1 )^nc <»f truth to point his arj^niment and the perfect logical 
rhvthni of his tliou.u^hts to kiiifUe men's admiration. Xaturally 
he was most effective in the court-room, one of the class that 
judges lean ui)on, for he never juggled with a legal principle 
and never misstatefl a legal proposition. 

In private lie was most winsome, and had a hapjn- faculty 
of asking a few questions of a man that left an impressifjn 
upon the man that he was solicitous about him and his. 

He had mingled much with the world and was a shrewd 
judge of men and knew from what point to approach each one. 
Inherently he was a lover of justice, and that the right should 
prevail, and could have outlined what society would be when 
men had lost all their weaknesses, and all were striving toward 
a clearer and .softer light, perhaps with as much vividness as 
Starr King himself. 

Hut. after all. not one in a hundred of his close friends 
ever understood the ruling trait of his life, so carefully did he 
veil it. 

Tie was at heart a sublime egotist. I have read of a few 
such men. but he was the only one I ever knew*, personally. 

A friend said to him one day : "J^^l^e. I came up from 
Carson today. I was talking with Chief Justice Bronson of the 
Supreme Court last evening and he said to me : "Do you know 
that the argument delivered yesterday before the court by Tod 
Robinson was the most profound and convincing legal argu- 
ment I ever listened to?" 

With an air of perfect conviction and candor. Tvobinson 
sitnply replied: "It was." 

Does not that remind one of what William Pinkney said 
of the great Samuel Dexter, the marvelous Massachusetts 
lawyer? 

Dexter ,was one day replying in the Supreme Court to 
Rush when Rush, turning to Pinkney. said: "That is a very 
able argument." when Pinkney simply responded: "\Wait till 
you hear me." 

P>ut egotism has been a trait in many a great mind. The 
h'arl of Xormandy made a speech in parliament which the 
Edinburg Rc7'ic7c praised highly, whereupon Brougham wrote 



102 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

the editor of the Rcziczv, saying : "The speech was very good, 
only that it should have been less praised," adding : "He is an 
excellent fellow, and deserves great credit; but, truth to tell, 
his speech was a failure — so much so that I was forced to bear 
down to his assistance." 

But Mr. Robinson's self-esteem seemed to be unconscious. 
It was like that of Daniel Webster, who never seemed conscious 
of anything like vanity, but who one day attacked a legal prop- 
osition of an opponent at the bar, and was reminded that he 
was assailing a dictum of Lord Camden. He simply turned to 
the court and delivered a wonderful eulogy upon Lord Cam- 
den's greatness as a jurist, wdiich electrified the court and bar, 
but then, in his profound way, added : "But, may it please 
your honor, I differ from Lord Camden." Even Thomas Jef- 
ferson possessed that trait; John Adams had it stronger than 
Jefferson, while with John Quincy Adams it was almost a 
disease, and if we go further back, the Apostle Paul could 
have held his own with old Tom Benton himself. 

If Tod Robinson was conscious of any such trait, it never 
appeared in his public utterances, either at the bar or on the 
rostrum. He always talked to his theme and never forgot for 
a moment that it was the theme and not himself that the court, 
or the jury, or the audience desired to have elucidated. 

And while he was fierce and bitter in his political views, 
by inheritance and training, he was a fervent apostle of order 
and law. The vigilance committee of 1856, he was furious 
over, declaring that the committee was taking advantage of 
their own wrong ; that had they not shirked their duties as cit- 
izens of a free country, as voters and jurors, the trouble would 
never have. been forced upon the city of San Francisco to its 
disgrace and the disgrace of the Golden State. 

He was not like IMount Shasta, springing from the valley, 
thus making his summit seem higher than it really was, but 
more like Mount Whitney, which rising amid surrounding 
peaks, is dwarfed a little by those peaks until tested by a per- 
fect instrument which reveals its sovereign majestv. 



W. C. RALSTON. 

TO ONIC who has any soul, who knew him weh. the men- 
tion of the name of W. C. Ralston brin^^s a sense of 
sorrow. From the early days until he died he was more 
to San Francisco than any other man. 

He had a masterful brain, an unquenchable public spirit. 
Had he been Aladdin he would have covered the sand hills of 
San Francisco with palaces and the sea outside with regal 
ships. Not being an Aladdin, he seemed determined to rival 
him so far as human genius and energy could. 

\\'hen I saw him first he was the agent of a steamship 
company in Panama. It was in the early fifties. He soon out- 
grew* those surroundings and came to San Francisco. The air 
of the Golden Coast was elixir to him. He attracted only local 
notice until, through his ability and energy, he founded the 
Bank of California. 

The late D. O. Mills had made a little fortune buying gold 
(lust in southern California — at San Andreas, I believe — then 
had established a bank at Sacramento, and bore a high name as 
a shrewd, capable, careful and honest banker. To give the new 
bank strength Ralston had his associates invite him to the pres- 
idency of the California bank ; Ralston to be the immediate 
local manager. The bank soon obtained the absolute confi- 
dence of Californians, and swiftly grew into a great financial 
institution. It had the best of the local patronage, and through 
it the Oriental and Australian business was transacted. 

Through Ralston many new industries sprang up in San 
Francisco; through him, in the early sixties, Mr. Sharon was 
able to establish the Branch Bank of California in Virginia 
City, Nevada, and through him was able to maintain it there 
when D. O. Mills insisted that it should be closed, as he did not 
approve of Sharon's management. 

A little later the great lode began to vindicate Sharon's 
indgment. and within ten vears had made Mr. Mills more 



104 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

money tlian he had ever ch-eanied of possessino-. Indeed, it 
made the whole coast dizzy. Its effect upon W. C. Ralston 
(juickened his old desire for a great city on San Francisco bay 
into a passion. He bought realty, opened new streets, built 
new structures, and plunged deeper than a banker, who is cus- 
todian of others people's money, ever should. 

Then he had another habit. If a man presented a scheme 
to him which was backed by full and reliable reports, he had a 
habit of saying, "Your scheme looks good ; but my time is all 

occupied with the business ot this bank. You go and see , 

or ; lay your proposition before him and then tell him to 

call on me and explain it to me." How many such enterprises 
he put upon their feet, no one knows. I recall one in partic- 
ular. The late Ike Bateman had a bond on the Northern Belle 
mine at Candelaria. He went to Ralston, Ralston sent him to 
General Dodge. The resu't was that in a day or two Dodge 
had bought and paid for the mine and proceeded at once to 
erect a great mill, though before that he was not known to have 
any money. He made a great fortune from it in the succeed- 
ing three years and passed for a shrewd operator, while Ral- 
ston's name was not mentioned in connection with the enter- 
prise. 

But Bonanzas are worked out after a while, and the de- 
cline of the Comstock began just when the critical time came 
in the working out of several of Mr. Ralston's problems in San 
Francisco, and when immense sums had to be provided. The 
indomitable man struggled against the inevitable for months, 
Init finally the door of the great bank had to be closed. 

A hasty examination of the accounts was made and then 
D. O. Mills, in his mathematically correct business way, went 
into Mr. Ralston's private room in the bank and in his tone of 
icy correctness demanded that he should resign his official 
position in the bank. Without a word the strong man wrote 
out his resignation ; then left the bank from the Sansome street 
side, walked rapidly to North Beach ; was seen to swallow a 
white powder and then sprang ofif the wharf into the water, 
and a little later his lifeless body was recovered. 

Then a great wave of pity swept over San Francisco. 



W. C. RALSTON. 105 

Those who had blamed him for the bank's faikire, reaHzing^ 
what he had done for the city and all its people, wept Hke chil- 
dren. But their tears no longer disturbed his calm. 

He was quite six feet in height; carried a great head on 
ample shoulders, and must have weighed two hundred pounds. 
He had regular Roman features and his face was always 
lighted and eyes alert. It was clear, to watch his movements, 
that he had a tiger's determination, though the tiger was much 
more given to purring than growling, and that he was driven 
on by an insatiable energy and supported by a hopeful soul that 
nothing but the last overwhelming disaster could Cjuench. 

In his social life he was geniality itself and was lavish in 
his generosity. One sample will give an idea of his ways : 
When Senator Nye of Nevada was finally denied a re-election, 
a few gentlemen met on some business in the bank in San 
Francisco. After the business was transacted and general con- 
versation began, one of those present said : "I am sorry for 
old man Nye. He is old and poor and now his office has been 
taken from him ; he is too old to renew the practice of law ; on 
my soul I am sorry for him." 

^^'hile the gentleman was talking Ralston swung 'round 
to his desk, picked up a pen. wrote a few lines ; then tearing 
off the pa'])er he had been writing upon, he held itp a check and 
said : "I am sorry ten thousand dollars' worth ; how much are 
you?" In twelve minutes $100,000 was raised and given to 
the old Senator. He sailed for the East on the next steamer, 
and the next heard of him. he was wandering, dazed, in a street 
in Richmond, Va. He died a few months later in an asvlum. 

When Mr. Ralston died, the great clergyman. Dr. T. 
Campbell Shorb, said of him : 

"The loss is a great indescribable calamity to the State. 
Had I the power I would drape California in the blackest crepe 
from Siskiyou to San Diego, for he has left us who made Cali- 
fornia a synonym for princely hospitality and generositv to the 
uttermost bounds of the universe. His most fitting, touching 
and eloquent eulogy was pronounced in the question asked iti 
every street of San Francisco: 'Who shall take liis place?' 
His heart was large as the mountain : he was noble, generous 

8 



106 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

and true ; his friendship unwavering. Honor, unfaiHng honor 
to his memory; peace, everlasting peace to his soul." 

We copy, too, a few words from the eulogy which Hon. 
Tliomas Fitch pronounced at this funeral : 

"His eulogy is written on ten thousand hearts. Com- 
merce commemorates his deeds with her whitening sails and 
her laden wharves. Philanthropy rings the chimes of all public 
charities in attestation of his munificence. Patriotism rings 
preons for him who, in the hour of the nation's struggle, sent 
the ringing gold of mercy to chime with the flashing steel of 
valor. Unnumbered deeds of private generosity attest his 
secret munificence. Sorrow found solace in his deeds. De- 
spair has been lifted into hope by his voice. There are churches 
whose heaven-kissing spires chronicle his donations ; schools 
claim him as their patron ; hospitals own him as their benefac- 
tor. He was the supporter of art ; science leaned on him while 
her vision swept infinitely. The footsteps of progress have 
been sandaled with his silver. He has upheld invention while 
she wrestled with the forces of nature. He was the life-blood 
of enterprise ; he was the vigor of all progress ; he was the epi- 
tome and representative of all that was broadening and expan- 
sive and uplifting in the life of California." 

By the strict rules of business the fate of Mr. Ralston was 
just. In a place of great trust he had used other men's money 
in a way to cause its probable loss, and it would be a slander 
to say he did not realize the possible consequences when he 
did it. 

But no one who knew him ever believed that he meditated 
any wrong. He had often gambled in stocks and believed he 
could pull through. Four years previously Mr. Sharon had 
loaned hin-i $4,000,000 in just such an emergency, and his 
over-sanguine nature urged him on. When he finally failed 
he made no appeals for help. He said to himself : "I can 
make but one atonement," so he sprang into the bav. May the 
grand things he did in life plead for charitv to his memory. 



GEORGE C. GORHAM. 

HI-'. WENT to California with the Argonauts, a hoy of 
perhaps seventeen or eighteen years of age. He was 
always small, ahout five feet eight inches in lieight. 
fair and slim. Tn personal appearance he resembled ex-Senator 
and ex-Secretary of \\'ar Chandler of New Hampshire more 
than any other man that I ever met. He resembled also the 
picture of Marshall Xey of I-" ranee. 

He was brighter than any of those around him ; he could 
write and talk, and, when the occasion required, he could par- 
alyze those near him by his audacity. A sample of this was 
shown just after he reached Marysville, where he went imme- 
diately on his arrival in California. 

He was poor and had to find something through which 
to make a living, so in some way obtained an appointment as 
notary public. Titles were being changed every day and ac- 
knowledgments had to be made. In his business he naturally 
t^ot to know all the city officers. A primitive circus came to 
town and the manager applied to the sheriff for a license. The 
"^heriff was Mike dray. lie had been a Texan ranger, lieu- 
tenant under and close friend of Jack Ha^es. the famous one. 
lie was as brave a man as ever lived. A man on the street 
shot at him while he was seated in a buggy. He jumped from 
his buggy on the right side of his horse, caught the horse by 
the bit. swung around the hor.se's head to the left side, facing 
the advancing man, who was trying to revolve his pistol, which 
a broken cap clogged, and. drawing a derringer pistol from his 
vest pocket. Gray killed the man. That evening a friend asked 
(iray what other weapons he had. and he replied: "Not a 
thing." The friend .said. "You should not go about that way. 
^'ou are an officer, dealing w^'th thugs every day. and you 
'^llould not g'o around with nothing but a four-inch derringer 
>n." Gray thought a moment and then said: "That's a fact: 
there might be more than one of them next time." The idea 



108 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

that a single barrel derringer would not be enough for one 
man never crossed his mind. 

But he was as genial and jolly as he was cool and self- 
contained. So when the circus man appealed to him for a 
license he heard his story, then asked him what kind of a circus 
he had. The man explained. 'Tt's a good show, is it?" was 
Gray's next inquiry. The man replied that it was a good little 
show for California and worth the money. Then Gray asked 
him how $2,000 for a license would appeal to him. 

The man answered that he could not think of that unless 
the sheriff would take his circus in part payment. After ban- 
tering the poor fellow long enough, Gray said : "Why, of 
course the boys will want to see it. Go ahead, and never mind 
about the license !" 

The man was grateful, and after thanking the sheriff told 
him to come with his deputies, to announce to the man at the 
door who he was and who his subordinates were and they 
would be shown in. 

Gorham heard of this, went to Gray and offered to attend 
the circus in Gray's stead. When Gray declined the offer, 
Gorham insisted that he must see that show and could not 
afford to put up for a ticket. Gray explained that the offer 
included only himself and his deputies and if he named a little 
shrimp like George as a deputy, the circus man would know 
he was lying and put the whole bunch out. 

Gorham was still for a second, then said : "You don't 
mind my following your disreputable procession when you go 
to the circus, do you?" Gray laughingly replied that he had 
followed a good many tough citizens in his time, and would 
not mind if one followed him. 

A few days prior to this. Gorham had become a clerk of 
Stephen J. Field who later became a judge of the Supreme 
Court of California and later still was for more than thirty 
years a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. 

The day of the circus came and Gorham was at the sher- 
iff's office at the right time. Arriving at the tent. Gray an- 
nounced himself sheriff and passed in, then was followed by 
the office sheriff and two or three deputies, and then came Gor- 



GEORGE C. GORHAM. 109 

ham. Tic did nut pause in his walk, but as he reached the door- 
keeper, he. in a hoarse whisper, hissed, "Estoy Secretaris del 
Alcalde et notarius publico." in his ear and passed in. Once 
inside. Gray asked him how he made it. Gorham replied: "lie 
let you fellows in because you were just common officials ; when 
I mentioned my title to him, he thought the Alcalde was my 
clerk and was overcome by the honor of my presence." Gray 
said: "Your Spanish must have hit him hard." With a lau,^h 
Gorhani replied : "Hard? It w^as a knockout." 

Justice Field, in his book, tells how Gorham became his 
clerk, as follows : 

"One day while I was Alcalde, a bright-looking lad 
with red cheeks and apparently about seventeen years of age 
came into the office and asked if I did not want a clerk. I said 
I did. and would willingly give $200 a month for a good one; 
but that I had written to Sacramento and was expecting one 
from there. The young man suggested that perhaps the one 
from Sacramento would not come, or might be delayed, and 
that he would like to take the place in the meanwhile. I replied : 
Very well, if he was willing to act until the other arrived, he 
might. Thereupon he took hold and commenced work. 

''Three days afterwards the man from Sacramento arrived, 
but in the meantime I had become so much pleased with the 
brightness and quickness of the young clerk that I could not 
part with him. That young clerk was George C. Gorham, the 
present (1877) secretary of the Senate. His quickness of 
comprehension was really wonderful. Give him half an 
idea of what was wanted and he would complete it, as 
it were, by intuition. I remember on one occasion he wanted 
to know what was necessary for a marriage settlement. I 
asked him why. He re])lied that he had been employed b}' 
a French lady to prepare such a settlement, and was to receive 
twenty-fi\e dollars for the instrument. I gave him some sug- 
gestions, but added that he had better let me see the document 
after he had written it. In a short time afterwards he brought 
it to me. and T was astonished to find it nearly perfect. There 
was only one correction to make. And thus readv T alwavs 
found him. With the most general directions he would execute 



110 AS I RE^IEMBER THEM. 

anything committed to his charge, and usually with perfect 
correctness. 

"Wdien I went upf^n the hench of the Supreme Court, 1 ap- 
pointed him clerk of the Circuit Court of the United States 
for the District of California, and with the exception of the 
l)eriod during which he acted as Secretary of Governor Low, 
he remained as such clerk until he was nominated for the office 
of Governor of the State." 

The truth is. that Gorham knew more politics than Field 
and Low comhined, and it was Gorham that secured the nom- 
ination of Field for Supreme Judge of California, and the nom- 
ination of Low for Governor. When he himself was nominated 
for Governor, he should have been elected and would have 
been except for two things. When the old Central Pacific 
Railroad Company obtained its government money subsidy, it 
will be remembered that wdien the road should leave the valley 
and enter the foothills, the subsidy w^as to be doubled. Well, 
Gorham went to \A'ashington and had the foothills moved down 
to within twelve miles of Sacramento. So when he was nom- 
inated for Governor, it was charged that he was a railroad 
candidate. 

Then General Bidwell had just ploughed up his vineyard, 
and in the temperance move that was then sweeping over Cali- 
fornia, was nominated for Governor. All the votes he obtained 
w^ere drawn from Gorham, and the Democratic candidate w^as 
elected. California made a mistake. Gorham would have made 
a most brilliant Governor and one of the most far-sighted and 
honest Governors the State would ever have had. 

The night after he was nominated, the Republican State 
central comniittee called upon him and asked him to write an 
address to Republican voters, and said they wanted it, if pos- 
sible, within a week. He bade them be seated, turned to his 
desk and began to write. Meanwhile his little boy was climbing 
upon and playing horse on the back of his chair. Li forty 
minutes he gathered up the sheets and, handing them to the 
chairman, said : 'Publish that ; it will answer in a campaign 
as well as a carefully prepared paper." 

It was perfect, and just exactly covered the case. 



GEORGE C. GORH AM. 1 1 1 

I think it was Stewart and Nye, senators from Nevada, 
who obtained his appointment as secretary of the Senate of the 
United States. He held the office for many years — eighteen. I 
beheve — and was a walking- encyclopedia for that body. 

He was always most courteous, but his quiet criticisms of 
«ome bumptious senators were delicious to listen to. He was 
in full accord with the stalwarts of both parties, but he never 
liked Sumner. He said, one day. of liim: "W'liy. the old 
fraud, counting on our ignorance, talks bad Latin in his 
speeches." He was always a stalwart. There were as many 
Democrats as Republicans in Marysville. California, in 1861. 
But when Washington's anniversary came. Gorham procured 
a large mackerel, and, going into the saloon Eldorado, where 
many Democrats congregated, he went from one to another 
and, holding up the mackerel, said: "Take a whiff of that! 
Erom this time on, it is to be the American eagle." 

Had anyone else tried the same thing, he would have been 
killed. 

I saw Gorham at the W'illard in Washington just after 
a Democrat had succeeded him as secretary of the Senate. He 
said : "I could have been Governor of California and would 
have been had not one who was under great obligations to me 
betrayed me. I might have been Senator. It was offered me. 
but I put it by for a friend who wanted it more than I did. I 
have helped a good many friends to get office ; I have enabled a 
good many other friends to get rich ; I have distributed more 
than $3,000,000 since I became secretary of the Senate, but 
my accounts have exactly balanced, and T am going to Xew 
York today to begin work to support my little familv. and 
listen ! I do not take a regret with me. for T have done the best 
T could." 

Later, he wrote the life of Secretary Stanton and per- 
formed much other literary work. Some months ago. I heard 
he was dead, and I said then as I say now. "Poor George, 
the world will never know how high of soul, how clean and 
true and <:rcat he rcallv was." 



A 



THOMAS STARR KING. 

LL the men of whom I have spoken in this series of 
reminiscences had within them more or less of the earth 
earthy. Thomas Starr King had not enough of base 
metal in his nature to hold his spirit long in this world. Gold 
has to be alloyed with a harder metal to endure the attrition of 
dail}^ use. There was no alloy in Starr King, and he was 
quickly worn out. 

He weighed, I judge, about one hundred and forty pounds. 
He was slight and fair, but the head above his shoulders was 
a royal one ; the face a sovereign one, and notwithstanding his 
delicate appearance, his voice held within it all the sweetness 
of the harp when struck by a master hand, all the power and 
solemn grandeur of a great cathedral organ. He had, more- 
over, that subtle magnetism which drew and retained his audi- 
ence while he talked. But his was never a dress parade elo- 
quence. It was, after all, the thoughts behind his words that 
held men and women captive while he spoke; the thoughts 
and words and that majesty which comes from the soul of 
some men, maybe once in a century. Listening to him one 
thought involuntarily of the statement that when the Master 
was in the Garden by the brook Kidron, the soldiers came to 
arrest him and when they told him whom they sought and he re- 
plied : 'T am He,'" they walked backward and fell to the ground. 

He w^as of New England's bluest blood. He was denied 
a university training. His father, a clergyman, had prepared 
him for college, but when the boy was fifteen years of age the 
father suddenly died and the care of the mother and younger 
children, turned him to labor for them. He worked as a clerk, 
then as a teacher. 

But while the training of his brain in the schools was for 
the time arrested, his soul was growing and at nineteen he 
began to preach. The recognition of his genius was instanta- 
neous. He was wanted everywhere, and for eleven years he 
held New England enthralled. Boston had claimed him and 



THOMAS STARR KIXG. 113 

counted on him as one of that royal circle which half a cen- 
tury and more ago was an intellectual Aurora Borealis in that 
northern latitude of New England. 

He was a Unitarian minister and Edward I'Aerett 1 Tale 
was a foster father to him. 

While youu'^- in his ministry a great longing for the west 
came upon him, and amid the sorrow and good wishes of the 
highest in Boston intellectual circles, he sailed for California. 
When he landed in San Francisco, though few knew the fact, 
it was really the coming of an apostle of religion and an evangel 
of i)atriotism. A pulpit was waiting for him, and his first 
sern^on made clear that the west coast had gained a treasure 
richer than any in her mines, for from the first, men instinct- 
ively felt that behind all that he said, there was a character so 
lofty that it was interwo\-en into the very texture of the man 
himself: a something which was as much a part of the man as 
were his vocal chords or as was the blood in his arteries. 

He preached and lectured, and wn-ote. and grew constantly 
in public estimation — he was a light to the west coast, for 
every man w^as his brother in his own estimation, and it wms his 
duty to hold up the hands of his fellows and to afiirm the mercv 
and glory of God. 

With the coming of the great Civil war he was strangely 
agitated. How native land was to be saved in its entirety; 
how the old love and trust were to be wooed back were prob- 
lems that exercised his mind continually. 

When the scheme to raise money to purchase comforts and 
medicines for the soldiers and to pay nurses for attending 
upon the sick and the wounded was broached, he became its 
instant advocate, and to further it he lectured through the 
Pacific states. He drew all classes to those lectures until his 
fame, which had been, in most part, confined to San Francisco 
and surrounding towns, filled the whole coast. His travels, 
too. gave him every day new scenes from which to draw illus- 
trations. 

It is presumptious to try to give an idea of his style or 
his methods on the rostrum, but we will relate one incident, 
lie was delivering a lecture in Carson City. Nevada, for the 



114 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

benefit of the sanitary fund. He finally, in his lecture, as pre- 
hminarv to an apostrophe to patriotism, told how, a few days 
before, he was sailing down the Columbia, and the theme of 
all on board was a great battle, news of which had just reached 
the west coast. He noticed a solitary man sitting by the 
rail and showing no interest in what was going on. 

Going over to him, he said : "Have you no interest in the 
tremendous events now convulsing the country?" 

"None at all," was the reply, "all I want is to be left 
alone." 

"Do you realize that the life of the republic is hanging in 
the balance, and that your countrymen are dying by thou- 
sands?" 

"I have lost no one. All I want is to be left alone," said 
the man, doggedly. 

"Have you no love of country? No appreciation of the 
blessings that have been yours all your life under the flag and 
the splendor that it represents?" was the next question. 

"No, I jist want to be let alone," was the querulous answer. 

Then straightening himself and stretching outward and 
downward his right hand, and in a voice that thrilled all who 
heard it, Starr King cried : "And that abject, cowering wretch 
sat there, though Mount Hood in its majesty was towering 
above him, and the Columbia was rolling at his feet." 

It was not what he said, but the way he said it that 
thrilled those who listened and made them realize more fully 
the full meaning of what he said on another occasion, which 
was : 

"Idle soul is not a shadow ; the body is. Genius is not 
a shadow ; it is a substance. Patriotism is not a shadow, it 
is light." 

At tliat time there were thousands of men on the coast 
who were working to cause the secession of California, Oregon 
and Nevada, and to have them join the Southern confederacy 
or to organize an independent Pacific Republic. King's 
soul was on fire, and his appeals were bugle calls. 

In the lecture field he sounded all literature for illustra- 
tions and all the moods of men were his to play upon. Every- 



THOMAS S'r.\in>^ l\I\(i. 11 -"^ 

Ihin- was at his onunaiKl, but there was thcusht l)cliin<l all his 
words. For instance, how expressive is this: "He who com- 
poses a poem that has no burnino- thou.s:ht in it. is not so orig- 
inal as he who constructs an original mouse trap. The one is 
a mere artisan in w.^rds. the other an original thinker in wire 

and wood." 

And again : "So many of us there are who have no majes- 
tic landscapes for the heart, no gardens in the inner life! We 
live <.n the flats, in a country which is dry. droughty, barren. 
We lo..k up to n.^ heights where shadows fall and streams flow, 
singing. We have no great hopes. We have no sense of infi- 
nite guard and care. \\'e have no sense of divine, all-enfokl- 
ing love. We may make an outward visit to the Sierras, but 
there are no Vosemites in the soul." 

And hear this : 

"Historv. until of late, has been mostly a record of bat- 
tles, manv of which had no effect on society. But history 
truly written will show that the hinge-epoch of centuries was 
when no battle sound was heard on the earth— when in Gali- 
lee One was uttering sentiments in a language now nowhere 
spoken, never deigning to write a line, but entrusting to the air 
His words. The Caesar, whose servant ordered His crucifixion 
—all the CcTsars— are dead, but His words live yet. the sub- 
stantial agents of civilization, the pillars of our welfare, the 
hope of the race." 

And again : 

"Runnhig uj) through the realm of science to society, and 
to the life of'nations. we find that the apex-truth which the 
intellect discovers is this: Character is of supreme impor- 
tance for national growth, prosperity and stability. How im- 
pressive does historv seem as a study, when we find that every 
country is a huge pedestal, lifting up one national figure, which 
symbolizes the prospects and the perils (^f the millions that dwell 

around its base." 

So he lived, wi^rking constantly and for only three things 
his fellow men. his country and the glory of God. 

The secret of his charm was in his absolute sincerity and 
in the loftiness of his character. He was intensely human in all 



116 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

his acts; every man who had a sorrow was his brother, but 
when an intehectual field was to be explored he was every- 
where a leader ; whenever a righteous cause needed a champion 
his voice was loudest and sweetest of all. He believed that all 
men should be educated ; that there was no safety to society 
except in obedience to law ; his apostrophes to charity in all 
its forms were sometimes anthems, sometimes trumpet calls; 
he believed in full liberty; he consecrated his life to duty, and 
wore himself out and died just as he reached the zenith of his 
intellectual power. Wdien dying he said : 

"Do not weep for me. T know it's right. I wish I could 
make you feel so. I wish I could describe my feelings. They 
are strange! I feel all the privileges and greatness of the future. 
It already looks grand, beautiful." 

I feel that the forgoing does not nearly do justice to the 
wonderful man, and close by copying the little poem which Bret 
Harte wrote, evidently feeling the same way, to a pen that the 
great soul had written with ; 

"This is the reed the dead musician dropped. 
With tuneful magic in its sheath still hidden. 
The prompt allegro of its music stopped. 
Its melodies unbidden. 

"But who shall finish the unfinished strain. 

Or wake the instruments to awe and wonder, 
And bid the slender barrel breath again — 
An organ-pipe of thunder? 

"His pen ! What haunting memories cling about 

Its golden curves ! What shapes and laughing graces 
Slipped from its point, when his full heart went out 
In smiles and courtly phrases ! 

"The truth, half jesting, half in earnest, flung; 
The word of cheer, with recognition in it ; 
The note of alms, whose golden speech outrung 
The golden gift within it. 

"But all in vain the enchanter's wand we wave ; 

No stroke of ours recalls its magic vision ; 
The incantation that its power gave 
Sleeps with the dead magician." 



THE OLD BOYS. 

THE old California days are always coming- back upon 
nie in thought, and perhaps it will not be unwelcome if 
I devote a chapter to the old boys. California was not 
settled like any other state. As late as 1848 the United States 
was a poor country in wealth. It was rated a little higher than 
Turkey, not much above Spain in its material wealth. 

At that time the Sacramento, the American, the Feather, 
the Yuba, the Stanislaus, the Merced, the San Joaquin and the 
other rivers were flowing on and on, serene and unvexed, to 
the sea. Their banks had never been disturbed by the pros- 
pector's tread. 

But the hour came at length when the nation w^as to ad- 
vance to a higher plane, about to take up a new station among 
the earth's nations ; and treasures were needed for that forward 
march ; so they were released. 

Tn those first days California was fairyland. It was beau- 
tiful beyond description. Nature seemed to have gathered 
there all her glories. The mountains were a rugged back- 
ground for pictures such as angels might have painted with 
the brushes of the Infinite, with dyes from the very fountains 
of light. 

The valleys were carpeted with flowers, the mountains 
looked up to from the valleys were azure until where the 
higher range asserted itself — there their brows were white as 
a planet's light. 

The air was soft and sweet, and came to the faces of men 
like a caress. The sunlight was the crowning glory. 

Sun-kissed seas smote all the long coast: the mountain 
tops were crowned with such forests as the newcomers had 
never beheld, never dreamed of before, while over real golden 
sands the rivers followed their channels to the sea. 

Such was the land that greeted the newcomers, and in 
such a land nothing seemed impossible save man's capacity to 
grasj) the opportunities before and around him, to dare to reach 



118 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

for and seize the triumphs wliich Hope painted on the retinas 
of brave eyes. 

The people who were gathered there \vere the pick of the 
world. Young men were in the majority, every state was 
represented and the outside world supplied its quota. There 
were some bad men, of course. I have seen a coyote among 
the orange groves of Riverside. 

\\diat a broadening of horizons came then, and to hearts 
what a melting aw^ay of prejudices w-as experienced ; how' the 
innate divinity in royal souls shone out. 

Besides the young there were older ones, those who had 
fled from the narrowaiess and poverty that had bound their 
lives from the cradle up. Some had fled from unhappy homes 
where, illy-mated at first, the cramped environment had added 
heart-breaking cares to original disappointments. Others had 
left happy homes, except that mouths became many and 
rewards few, so they had been forced to follow a vision of 
enough wealth to buy for the loved ones surcease from trouble. 

Society lacked the only natural leaven — the restraints, the 
grace, the benign influence of pure women, the music and 
the benediction of children's voices and presence. 

The effect was quickly seen. \Mien a ship loses its rudder 
it falls off into the trough of the sea, and wnth every oncoming 
w^ave its decks are swept. Many a naturally brave soul became 
reckless ; the vices caught them. Thousands of lives w^ent pre- 
maturely out because there was no wife or mother or sister or 
sweetheart to steady them with a reproachful look, or cheer 
them wdien the world's buffetings made them despair. 

But there was an empire to redeem from savagery, there 
were infinite mountains to explore, broad valleys to people 
and cultivate, states to be rounded into form, and behind every 
other incentive there was a promise of gold. 

The coming to the new land had chastened the people. 
Whether by w^ay of the plains, by sail ship around the conti- 
nent, or by the charnal ships that came and w^ent to and from 
the Isthmus, it mattered not. There- w^as suffering enough to 
make men thoughtful and considerate, to engender gratitude 
for a land which offered so much and was so beautiful. There 



THE OLD !'.( )NS. \V> 

were no written laws that men re.<!:ar(led and it was then liiat 
the fashion of tlie west and southwest was estahhshed. ^\en 
licld oacli otlier peisnnally responsible for shortcoming's, and 
the result was not so bad. There is a class of men needing: 
control that is better controlled in that way than in any other. 

As the hosts increased the old enlightened instinct asserted 
itself. There were offenses that individuals without authority 
could not follow to conviction and punishment. The need <»f 
laving- the foundation of society where order could l)e main- 
tained and laws enforced was soon apparent and generally 
accepted. Of course, the country was supposed to be under 
military rule, into which some civil forms had been injected, 
but in the mining camps something more was needed. 

With Anglo-Saxon directness the work was inaugurated. 
Fortunately there was no lack of material to set up a govern- 
ment to start it in motion. No community ever had a larger 
portion of educated, trained men. Thus, men went to work. 
They explored the hills, they turned the rivers from their 
natural channels, they made new applications of the engineer's 
science. In part, they adjusted themselves to their surround- 
ings — in part compelled their surroundings to minister to 
them. The implements that men work with they remodeled 
to save weight where weight was not needed, to make their 
own strength avail more when using those implements. A 
change came also in their characters. The absence of pure 
women gave them a higher appreciation of what a pure woman 
is : the absence of children impressed upon them the knowledge 
that a world without children would not be worth li\ing in. 
The hardships of their lixes made them generous and for- 
bearing toward the weak and unfortunate. The habit of accept- 
ing as a matter of course everything which Fate had in store 
for them, developed in them a self-reliance which was superb, 
an unpretentious courage which was sublime. .\t the same 
time they acquired a habit of careless levity which would have 
made a stranger think they had never felt a care or heartache 
in their lives. 

When in jovial mood they were a race of rare jokers and 
sometimes there was a sting in their words. Thcv had not 



120 Ao 1 REMKMP.ER TlllCM. 

much reverence for the forms \vhich in poHte society are en- 
forced. A stovepipe hat would have been in great danger in 
an (^Id-time mining camp ; but their cabins were never locked 
and strangers passing were expected to go in and help them- 
selves to anything they needed in the way of food. But the 
thief who winild take money or gold dust or anything else of 
value was dealt with in a w^ay so decided, expeditious and 
thorough that more than one man was kept honest through the 
certain knowdedge of wdiat would follow if an offense were 
committed. Tn those days a horse was worth vastly more than 
a man. That is, if two men quarreled and one w^as killed, the 
.offense was -generally condoned; but w^oe to a horse thief if 
ever caught. Of course, in such communities a cry of distress 
was a signal for universal and unstinted charity, and it was 
extended in such a w^ay as to make the recipient feel that he had 
conferred a favor by accepting it. 

What a place those camps were for puncturing frauds! 
A pretentious man quickly grew weary of himself. The quack 
doctor or lawyer was quickly discovered and banished l)y ridi- 
cule ; but if a sincere and earnest man entered a camp, explained 
that he was a minister of the gospel and desired a place in 
wdiich to deliver a brief sermon, if necessarv the games were 
all summarily stopped in the biggest gambling hall in the town, 
the preacher was given a billiard table for a pulpit, attentively 
listened to, when he had finished was handsomely rewarded 
and told when he came that way again to drop ^in antl 
make himself at home. When he was gone there was a general 
discussion as to wdiether the lead that the preacher w^as follow- 
ing w^ould ever end in the finding of pay dirt, some holding, in 
the idiom of the camp, that the gold was too light to save, or 
that the diggings w^ere too pockety, or that there was too much 
dirt to move to reach pay rock, or that it was the "Blue Lead" 
lie was (Ml without any certainty of ever gettting into the pay 
channel. But it w^as generally believed that a preacher seemed 
to be mining on the square and confidently expected to finally 
"strike it big." 

Those camps were veritable bonanzas for theatrical com- 
panies — unless too bad — that visited them. A pretty girl in 



THE OLD BOYS. 121 

the tinsel of the sta.q'e. (.lancing; a lively hornpipe or Spanish 
waltz was sure to hear falling around her as she danced halves 
.md dollars until the stage was covered with coin. She brought 
l)ack to the men vividly the memory of the girls they had left in 
the states and they were anxious to pay her for the service. 

Rut there were great souls in those camps. Many later 
proved it. many inore kept still and those who see their graves 
in the valleys or on the mountains will never know their ster- 
ling worth, what they were to the world, how splendid were 
their services, how steady and true their patriotism. • 

All those years men east and west saw what was being 
done in California, but only the more sagacious ones realized 
the full scope of the wr)rk and progress — the eventual results 
that would follow. It became a habit of the steamers every 
fortnight to carry east two millions to three millions of dollars. 
The first effect was the increased credit that was ready to be 
extended to our country; railroad building took on a new 
impetus and the men of Europe were willing to buy American 
railroad bonds. In those days it was a habit every year to bring 
in from across the plains large numbers of eastern horses. 
They were very lean of flesh upon their arrival and were turned 
out upon the rich pastures. When, the next year, they were 
caught, it was found that five-year-old horses had grow'n half 
a hanrl in height over what they were wlien they left the east. 
In like manner men grew, not in stature, Ijut in mind. They 
were broader, steadier-brained than when they left home. The 
change was such as comes to volunteers when, under the fric- 
tion of a great w-ar, they are hardened and refined into vet- 
erans. 

It is the rule in the eastern states to give tho.se pioneers 
credit for wliat they did, but it is often said, ''It is most strange 
that no really very great men were with those Argonauts." 
People that talk that way do not know. Mount Shasta is -a 
very much more imposing mountain than Mt. Whitney, though 
Whitney is the higher mountain of the two. The reason is 
that Shasta is a butte — that is, it springs up into the heavens 
from the valley and is not dwarfed by any surrounding moun- 
tains, while all around Mt. Whitney are peaks almost as high 

9 



122 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

as its own. There was a general higher proportion of great 
brains and great hearts in Cahfornia than were ever seen in 
any state before. It will do no harm to name a few as they 
come to memory. 

There was General E. D. Baker, who went east as a sen- 
ator on the eve of the coming of the great war, and a little 
later died under a battle cloud. 

There was David C. Broderick, who made himself a name 
in California which is reverenced there still, and who, in the 
same cause, though under a different name, died for his 
country. 

He who later was General Tecumseh Sherman was run- 
ning a little bank, and he who later was Admiral Farragut 
commanded at Mare island. 

At that time, too, John W. Mackay was mining on Yuba 
river. The world knows what he was pretty well, but I remem- 
ber when a strike was threatened in Virginia City, he said 
to me: 

"The little additional money that these miners want is 
nothing. (They were getting $4.00 a day.) What I hate is 
the spirit of it all. I rolled rocks in the Yuba river month 
after month, even though I did not earn four bits a day, but 
then I did not strike. I lived on the four bits (fifty cents) until 
I could make more, then I enlarged my menu, and the one 
thought that possessed me in all those years was, sometime, 
somewhere, if I had but courage enough and strength enough, 
I could win out. I never thought of asking help of any man, I 
never growled at conditions ; the good God had given me a 
good constitution and a pair of strong arms, and I always said 
to myself that that was capital enough to begin with in this 
world." 

Buying gold dust in those days was D. O. Mills. When 
later a fortune came to him, he went to New York, and the 
shrewdest financiers there realized that there was a man among 
them equal to their best. 

There was Collis P. Huntington, who had a little store in 
Sacramento. When later a fortune came to him and he went 
to New York and started into a regular Roman wrestling 



THK OLD lUJVS. 123 

niatcli with ilie linanciers there, they found he was about the 
liaixlest man to throw down they had ever met. 

'J'hcre was J. P. Jones. All those years he was up in the 
hills of Trinity county. Those who knew him knew he was 
brighter than anybody, jollier than anybody, deeper than any- 
Ixidy else in their county, and when later he went to Nevada 
and was sent from there to the senate of the United States, 
in his careless way and dress the other senators looked upon 
him as a western product which would add ])icturescjueness if 
not much wisdom to the senate. Ikit finally a great national 
question came up and then this miner who had become senator, 
arose to speak upon it. lie had proceeded but a little way until 
the sharp men around him began to question him, expecting, 
of course, to discomfit him. He answered all their questions 
on the moment and answered them in such a way that they 
knew instinctively that what they had thought was a common 
stone was in fact a pure diamond, and ever after they were 
careful how they questioned him. 

There was Chief Justice Hugh Murray, who went upon 
the bench when but a little over thirty years of age and died 
when he was only thirty-four years of age, but who wrote 
decisions which lawyers now a])peal to and admit their 
strength and directness. 

There was Stephen J. Field, who, after a while, was made 
a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, who held 
the place for more than thirty years and whose decisions are 
models for lawyers in every state in the Union. 

There were wild miners who sent communications to the 
city papers and when they were read, the public knew that 
somewhere in the hills a new bird was singing with voice 
sweeter than the lark, but more shrill than the eagle's scream. 

Bret Harte found fame first in California. He caught 
it from the atmosphere down there. He never could have 
written "Truthful James" had he remained in the east. That 
came from the impelling forces around him. 

There were such clergymen as Dr. Scott and Reverend 
vStebbins ; such lawyers as John B. Felton and Hall McAlister ; 
such scholars as Uecontc. There were men of affairs there 



124 AS I RE^IEMBER THEM. 

who, looking- at the boundless possibilities before them, said 
to themselves, "We are sufficient for them. We will grasp 
them and take them in." There was little Wm. Sharon, deli- 
cate of health, who made no noise in CaHfornia, but who later 
stood at the helm when the Comstock's future was hanging in 
the balance and saved it, and when later there came the crash 
of the Bank of California and the eastern financiers said, "That 
is the end. Another western bubble has burst," he closed his 
thin lips and in three months had the bank again established, 
all the debts paid, all the dishonor which had been threatening 
turned aside, and gave to the men of the east an object lesson, 
where a bank failed and where no other bank in all this nation 
had ever reopened when loaded with such responsibilities ; gave 
them an object lesson in a rejuvenated bank, stronger and 
more commanding than ever. 

There was no end of them. There was no work too big 
for them to undertake and carry out. And there were others 
who did not care for all the gold in California, who sat on their 
perches like mocking birds and mocked every singer in the 
forest, and then, as if out of self-respect, struck out and sang 
a song of their own, sweeter than the mourning dove's call to 
her sweetheart. 

If the present generation is not altogether remarkable, it is 
not any lack in the race, but it is because those Argonauts, 
when they saw a child, were sure to spoil it. If it did not 
have a silver spoon in its mouth, they put one in, and they let 
that first generation grow up under the sunbeams, living idle 
lives, like the birds that sang around them, like the flowers that 
bloomed around them, and it will take perhaps a generation or 
two more before a race appears that will understand from the 
first that nothing is really good unless it is earned, and that 
it is man's duty from the first, with his own hands, and eyes, 
and brain, if he wants something worth keeping, to earn it. 

As I began, so I close. California then was the glorv of 
the earth. It is a glory still, and the first race that gave the 
nation the gold through which it might become great, which 
planted the first fields, which framed the first institutions, was 
the stateliest race that had ever peopled a new state. 



WILLIAM SHARON. 

IT IS said that a new bonanza has been discovered and is 
now being explored in the ileep levels of the old Mexican 
mine. It is fifty-two years since two placer miners, work- 
ing with rockers on a little stream that ran down East canyon 
from Mount Davidson, in what was then Carson County, Utah, 
found as they worked up this ravine, increasing- \alue in each 
day's work until at last, as they reached the head of the ravine, 
they realized $300 per day from each rocker; notwithstand- 
ing that a persistent bluish rock annoyed them by clogging 
their rockers and despite the fact that some incomprehensible 
alloy reduced the \alue of their gold to $13 per ounce. Their 
eyes were blinded. They ne\er had thought of sending the 
material they were washing to an assayer. Why should they? 

It was one hundred and fifty miles by trail to the nearest 
assay oftice, and then it was only gold that they were after, 
and they could get the gold by washing. At the head of the 
ra\ine, they came upon a great deposit of this rich gravel, and 
located it. The news of the rich diggings they had found was 
told by one prospector to another and now and then a man 
climbed that rugged mountain out of curiosity to see what was 
there. One of these picked up a piece of this strange blue- 
black metal and carried it away as a pocket piece. He lived 
near where Reno, Nevada, now is, but a few days later made 
a visit t(^ his old home in Nevada City, California. He gave 
this strange pocket piece to a friend. The friend took it to 
an assayer and asked him to test it for gold, silver, copper or 
anything else he could think of. The result was nearly $1,200 
gold and nearly $1,500 silver per ton. 

So the gravel that the miners had been working up the 
ravine, and the deposit they had located at the head of the 
ravine, was not gravel at all, but decomposed rock from the 
croppings of the old Ophir and Mexican mines, as thev have 
since l)een known. 

That was how one end of the great Comstock lode was 



126 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

discovered. Of course, there was an unparalleled excitement 
and rush for the astounding new camp. It was the first silver 
mine ever found in the United States; a little later more silver 
mines were found out on the desert north, east and south; the 
whole financial world was electrified. What fortunes could not 
men accumulate now. Who could measure the wealth of such 
a country as ours? 

No man in the republic knew how to successfully reduce 
silver ores, but that abashed no one. The silver and the gold 
were there, and there must be a way to work them, so they 
went to work. The story of those first years has often been 
told. 

Two or three years later a man went up from San Fran- 
cisco to see the famous lode and the state of business around 
the mines. That man was V.'illiam Sharon. He had early 
gone to California and engaged in the realty business in San 
Francisco. 

He was well educated in the schools, had studied law 
enough to understand its exact relations to business, was by 
nature shrewd and far-seeing and could reason from cause to 
effect on a business proposition with the quickness of intuition. 
He was a small man, weighing perhaps 135 pounds, always 
delicate of health. His hands were small and white as those 
of a dainty and perfectly groomed woman, but he carried a 
sovereign head upon his shoulders, and his features were as 
clearly cut as were those of that class of old Greeks that rung 
the world of their day. His face was lighted by a pair of cold 
gray eyes, a glance into which made clear that any one who 
dealt with him should understand from the first that no blufT 
would ever carry with him, that no matter what the crisis would 
be, it would be met without fear. 

The Vigilance committee of 1856 gave vSan Francisco 
business a very black eye ; the cream of the California placers 
had been skimmed ; the rush to Eraser River of thousands of 
miners in 1858, and the return of those miners as a rule bereft 
of everything, made any advance for San Francisco impossible, 
and men who were loaded uii with San Francisco real estate. 



W ILIJA.M SllAROX. 127 

if much in debt, could not extricate themselves, and lust all 
they had. 

After 1S5^^. the liveliest business there was dealing- in 
mining- shares. Sharon watched this for a while, and then 
went in person to Virginia City. He found a strange state of 
c'dTairs. A good many crude quartz mills had been built, 
generally on insufficient capital ; the cream of the croppings 
of the great lode had been skimmed ; most of the mines were 
in litigation; the little banks there had loaned all their money 
on nulls and mines at a regular interest of five per cent per 
month, but could collect neither principal nor interest, nor 
couM run the mines nor mills; there were no pay days for 
nu'ners. and Sharon found a community of several thousand 
people standing over immeasurable treasures, but unable to 
utilize them. 

It was a case of oceans in sight but not a drop to drink. 
The prospect of bringing order out of such a situation would 
have daunted most men. Sharon, after looking around a few 
days, wired W. C. Ralston of the Bank of California that the 
thing needed there was a bank. Ralston wired back. "Come 
dt^wn. and we will talk it over." 

The result was that in a few days a branch bank was 
established there. Tt took over the interests of the little banks 
in the mines and mills, a regular pay-day for miners w^as estab- 
lished : interest was reduced to twelve per cent per annum ; reg- 
ular superintendents at high salaries were appointed on the sej)- 
arate mines: about the same time the dealing ceased to be in 
feet, and began to be carried on in shares ; order was estab- 
lished, and business, reduced to business channels, began to 
move without friction. And William Sharon was the captain 
on the bridge that ordered everything, anticipated evervthing, 
prepared for everything and w-ith a nerve that was superb 
fought the difficulties that confronted him and kept the im- 
mense machinery of that business running smoothly : though 
there were times when the obstacles in the way would have 
broken the heart of any other man, for sometimes it looked 
as though the whole lode was going into perpetual borasca. 
ITis troubles were not all local. T^. O. stills was then presi- 



128 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

(lent of the parent bank in San Francisco, and was exact in liis 
business methods as a perfectly adjusted engine is in its move- 
ments, and looked upon anything like gambling in business 
when that in any way affected the integrity of a bank, as an 
unforgivable crime, and mining was not reduced to an exact 
science in those days by a very considerable extent. Indeed, 
there is always an element of gambling in mining, and for that 
matter in every kind of business. When the farmer ploughs his 
field and plants his crop, he gambles that the soil, the moisture, 
the sunlight and the air, will return him three or four or forty 
fold what he plants, and he does this, knowing that possibly 
frost, or the drought, or the locust or the worm, or the storm 
may render all his efforts rewardless. 

So the miner, wdien he sees an indication on one level, 
knowing the pitch and trend of the mine, figures that at a 
certain point in the depth, that indication will have swelled 
into an ore body and delves for it, all the time aware that 
a fault may have occurred a million years ago that would 
make his hopes futile, and his labor vain, but from the record 
of the doctrine of chances, estimates how often he will win. 
Many people pronounce his work extra hazardous, but call the 
gambling of the insurance man legitimate business when he, 
in fact, for $30 of your money hand paid, wagers that your 
$3,000 house will not burn for a year to come. In the same 
way Mr. Sharon learned the habits of the Comstock and so 
dealt with its moods, and though carrying the cares of a hun- 
dred men in his brain, directed and controlled that mighty 
business and knew every day his business latitude and longi- 
tude as certainly as does the master of a ship his place on the 
sea, when every day the great sun bends down to give him the 
needed data. So he was justly called the king of the Com- 
stock for ten years. At last he aspired to be elected to the 
senate and he was. I fear all his methods would not have 
been approved by Senator Be^'eridge, but his methods were not 
like those in the East. Here is a sample: Joe Stewart was 
a Virginia City gambler. He was known far and near as a 
dead square man in business. Sharon met him one morning 
and said : "Joe, T am going to be a candidate for senator. You 



WJLLIAM SIIAROX. 129 

and I ha\e lone;- been friends. I want you to help me among 
vour class of men. It will take much of your time, and you 
will naturally spend a good deal of money. Come into the 
hank and T will give you a check." "Your check be d — d," 
was joe's reply. "I e.xpect to help you; you know that 1 w'.V 
do all I can for yi^u. but not for money. You can command 
me without any of your checks." ''Oh. all right." said Sharon. 
They then talked for a few minutes, when Sharon suddenly 
said : "By the way. Joe, it is a long time since we had a game 
of poker. Can you not fix one for tonight?" "Oh. yes," said 
Stewart. "Well, make it for about 9 p. m. and T will be up," 
said Sharon. 

He was there at the hour and the game began. Sharon 
was unlucky from the first. He lost and lost with a bad grace. 
He made a great ado over every loss, until Stewart said: 
"Why. Sharon, what is the matter with you tonight? I have 
seen you lose before, but ha\e never known you to make such a 
fuss over it." 

"It is a blankety blank thieving game. How much do I 
owe?" asked Sharon. Stewart looked over the memoranda 
and replied. "Four thousand seven hundred and sixty-five dol- 
lars.'" Sharon called for a blank check, filled in the amount 
and signed it; then pushed it over to Stewart and said; "I 
suppose you think you have earned that." "Yes." said Stewart. 
"It was a square game." Then Sharon said: "See how much 
trouble you can make a man sometimes. That is just $235 
less than I intended to give you this morning, if you had not 
got so cranky about nothing." 

In that same campaign a husky young man called at the 
office one day and, saying that his name was Sharon, asked to 
see Mr. \\'illiam Sharon. General Dodge was in the ante- 
room, showed him in and explained to Mr. Sharon that the 
man said his own name was Sharon and that he hailed from 
eastern Nevada. Sharon greeted him cordially asking him what 
Sharon family he belonged to. and how things were in eastern 
Nevada. The man proceeded to business at once. He .said he 
could control at least fifty votes, but it would require some 
monev. ".About how much moncv?" asked Sharon. "About 



130 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

$100 apiece," was the reply. A cold bluff for $5,000. It was 
too transparent. Sharon sprang from his chair like a tiger, 
and hurling an unspeakable volley of anathemas at the man, 
wound up by saying : "You infernal petty larceny hold-up. 
I will give you $500 if you will petition some legislature to 
change your name, but would not give you another cent to 
save your worthless life." 

The man seemed glad to get out alive without even 
the $500. 

A year and a half later Ralston stretched out too far, and 
the great California bank had to close its doors. It was a bad 
break, so bad that it was believed to be hopeless. The eastern 
newspapers held it up as a sample of wild speculation, and 
scoffed at the idea that it could ever again open its doors. The 
directors of the bank were overwhelmed and utterly pros- 
trated. 

For the marriage of his daughter to Senator Newlands 
and to please his children, Sharon had fitted his San Francisco 
home beautifully; the parlors were a dream. When the bank 
closed its doors he had some rough tables placed in those par- 
lors, upon the tables w-ere paper and pencils and cigars, and 
around these tables, amid clouds of cigar smoke, for six weeks 
the directors sat and consulted. Some were cjuitters, some 
cowards, some belligerent, but all, at the beginning, were set- 
tled in the conviction that the bank was hopelessly involved 
and intent only on seeing how much of their private fortunes 
could be saved from the wreck. 

One of the band intimated that the trouble started by 
adopting mining methods of running the bank. At this Sharon 
quietly rejoined that he had never suggested a change in the 
bank's methods ; that by his work in Nevada he had made every 
one of them more money than he had lost by the failure, and 
had four years previously saved the bank from disaster, 
when by the opening of New Montgomery street, and the pur- 
chase of the necessary realty, the bank had advanced too much 
money. 

Another director then began to assail the memory of Mr. 
Ralston, and then all the smothered wrath in Sharon's soul 



WILLIAM SIIARC^X. 131 

hurst fiiitli. and in a few terse and incisive sentences he declared 
that Mr. Ralston had more heart and soul than the whole band. 
That whatever his faults were he had made restitution for 
them all by dyinj;^ of a broken heart, and that in their further 
deliberati<"»ns those faults should not be called in evidence. 

Continuin.e:. he then insisted that the cjuestion before them 
was not how to bury a wreck, but how to reinstate a great 
financial institution and save their individual honor, and the 
honor of the city and state. They all declared that to be im- 
possible, but Sharon insisted. So the matter hung for days. 
The bold and angry ones Sharon bluffed ; the fearful and timid 
ones he coaxed and conciliated, his position being that each 
from his private fortune should double his subscription as a 
stockholder; that by so doing the bank would be in better 
standing in a year than it ever had been and would pay them 
better interest on their money than they could obtain in any 
other way. In addition, for his part he took the half-finished 
Palace Hotel with its liabilities. After some weeks of this, the 
announcement was one morning made in the papers that on 
a certain day the California Bank would resume business and 
be prepared to meet all demands. 

It did open as advertised, in three months it had w^on back 
all the prestige it had lost, and was making more money than 
ever before. It exalted the prestige and credit of the west in 
the east more than any other event ever did. and it made clear 
that among shrewd and sagacious financiers William Sharon 
was a past grand master. 

In private life Mr. Sharon had his moods. When an- 
noyed he could be unreasonable, and say unjust w(^rds ; again 
he could be the most delightful of hosts, and a most brilliant 
conversationalist, for he was a finished scholar along all the 
lines of the great thinkers, and again when in reminiscent mood 
to trusted friends he sometimes made clear the load he had 
carried while lifting the burdens from the well-nigh jirostrate 
Comstock. In the gentle way he rehearsed them, witli nothing 
hke vanity or egotism in the narrative, the storv was as win- 
some as a great drama. 



COL. DAVID T. BUEL. 

SIX feet four inches in height, had he met Saul his first 
question would have been: "Son of Kish, which of 
us are the people looking up to?" He obtained his 
military title by leading a band of men against the Pitt River 
and Modoc Indians who had been raiding the settlements on 
the lower Pitt river, in California, in 1850 or 1851. His com- 
mand brought home many scalps. 

He had fairly earned his title, for he was never afraid. 
His brain was filled with a rude but far-seeing strategy, and his 
tactics, though not elaborate, were effective. They may be 
described in the few words, "Find 'em; then take 'em in." 

He was a natural leader. With his height, his breadth of 
shoulders, his aggressiveness and the absolute absence of fear 
in his make-up, he could not help but be, for men have been 
looking up to and following that style of man since before the 
days of Saul. 

He was a pioneer on the Golden Coast, one of the first. 
It was naturally so, for had any started before him, he would 
have passed them and led them in. He early made a name in 
California. Readers will have already recognized how per- 
fectly in place he must have been in a Democratic convention, 
and how natural it was when he arose in a convention and said 
"Mr. Speaker?" for the presiding officer to recognize him, and 
for the full convention to see him. 

After a while he was elected sheriff of El Dorado County. 
With all his plunging ways, he had a profound respect for law, 
and for any sworn officer to betray or fail in his trust, he held 
to be the unpardonable sin. 

In the early days on the west coast people had not much 
patience with criminals, and as they had to rely a good deal 
upon themselves, executions were sometimes summary. There 
was a tree outside of Placerville — in those days, called Hang- 
town — a live oak, if I remember correctly, upon the branches 
of which tree it was said that some thirteen or fourteen men 



COLOXJ'.L D.W ID r. I'.L'EI.. 133 

liad siift'oredas Absoloni did — they were caue^lit in the branches 
and their mules walked out from under them. 

A man chars^ed with some crime was in the jail, which 
w as not a very secure structure. Col. Buel had but a few days 
before qualified as sheriff. He was called to a distant part of 
the county and was returning. He was resting for a few min- 
utes at a wayside station, twelve miles from Placerville. From 
the station there was a grade up the mountain for three miles, 
then the path descended gradually into Placerville. The colonel 
always rode a thoroughbred horse, and it was more to rest the 
liorse than himself that he had stopped at the station, for he 
and the horse were close friends. 

\\'hile there a messenger dashed up on a foaming horse, 
sprang t(^ the ground and handed the colonel a letter. It was 
from one of his deputies, and stated tersely that there would be 
an attempt that night to take the prisoner from the jail and 
lynch him. 

The colonel crushed the letter in his hand, thrust it into 
his pocket and called sharply for a bucket of water and a bottle 
of whiskey. He broke off the neck of the bottle, poured half 
its contents into the water, then held the bucket up to the horse, 
which eagerly drank its contents. Rubbing his hand over the 
face and nose of the horse, and calling him by his name, said, 
■'Come," and started with his long strides, like a gray wolf's 
lope, up the steep grade, the horse follov/in.^- like a dog close 
behind. 

TReachin'^- the summit he sprang upon the back of the horse 
and gave him the rein. 

When he reached Placerville. the night had come down, 
the crowd already had taken the prisoner to the fatal tree and 
had a ro])e around his neck. 

Buel rode straight to the crowd, sprang from the horse 
and began to force his way through the excited mass toward 
the prisoner, the horse following at his heels. 

Twenty rc\-ol\ers were drawn on Buel. and he was sternlv 
ordered back on pain of death. But he continuerl to force his 
way. crying to those around him : "Don't be inhuman, nu-n. 
The man may have a last message to send or a praver to offer." 



134 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Through his tremendous strength and determination he quickly 
reached the man, with his knife cut the rope from his neck, 
then, seizing the man, threw him upon the horse's back, struck 
the horse's flank, with the flat of his hand and bade the man 
ride for his hfe. 

Then, turning to the crowd, he denounced them as 
cowards and law-breakers, and declared them all under arrest. 

There were hot words and many threats for five minutes; 
then the mad-men realized that they had all been bafiled by 
one man who was not afraid, and one of the bunch proposed 
three cheers for the new sheriff. Then, I am told, they 
made a night of it and that the sheriff went along to see that 
order was kept. He got back his horse in a day or two, but 
the prisoner was never seen in that region again. 

Of course. Colonel Buel went with the crowd to the Com- 
stock. In the ten years in California he had learned much 
about mining and mine formations and was a practical expert. 

He visited all the camps in th.e state, but finally decided 
that for him the neighborhood of Austin was better than that 
about the Comstock. The leads were narrower, but the ore 
was richer and the competition less. 

From Austin, he went off south, with a company, on a 
prospecting trip and wore out his shoes. One of the boys found 
a dead ox on the desert ; from its hide he cut two pieces, bent 
up the edges, attached some buckskin strings and tendered them 
to the colonel for sandals. He put them on ; they worked all 
right. On reaching Austin there was a call for money for 
the sanitary fund. 

The colonel was a red-hot Democrat, but the cry appealed 
to him. He put up his sandals at auction. He called attention 
to the value of the sandals, pointed out their length and depth 
and breath and beam, and asked for bids. One man offered 
a dollar, another a dollar and a half, but the bidding was slow. 
The colonel bid twenty dollars, then upbraided the crowd, told 
them the money was for sick and wounded soldiers and put up 
the sandals again. The result was they brought $916.00. 

At last he drifted down to Belmont and bonded one of 
the mines there. He took the l)ond and the needed data. 



coLOxi-:i. D.wii) T. r,ii:L. 135 

went to Kn^land and sold it. rcaHzinir a little fortnne fn^n 
the sale. 

Then he determined to make a run o\er to Paris and see 
the siqhts for a week. It was not loni]^ after Na])oleon IT I and 
luisicnie were married, and all Paris was rejoicing. 

In his youth the colonel's study of French had been at hest 
most superficial, there was not a word in the laniiuat^e that he 
could pronounce correctly. P>ut. by the show bills that were 
hun^- out with their pictures and by the i)rci)arations he saw 
goin.ii" on, he knew a great horse race was going to be run. 
so he followed the crowd to the track. The seats were all 
occupied except those in one special stand. He noticed that 
over this stand were flying many gay flags. It was carpeted 
and supplied w^'th easy chairs. He immediately took posses- 
sion of one of these chairs on a long row of seats. Soon an 
ofticer rode up. saluted and delivered a brief oration, of which 
the colonel did not understand a word. But he bowed politely 
to the officer and thanked him, but kept his seat. The officer 
seemed much perplexed, and finally turned his horse and rode 
away. Then an officer covered wMth decorations rode up, 
curtly saluted, and in a most impressive tone explained some- 
thing to the colonel, upon hearing which he bowed profoundlv. 
told the officer that he was greatly obliged, pointed to a seat 
beside him and in pantomime invited the officer to occupv it. 

The officer was wild, and was just entering upon a most 
vehement speech when a trumpet sounded and a carriage and 
four, superbly caparisoned and attended by a glittering arrav 
of mounted outriders, drove up and the emperor and empress 
alighted and entered the stand. The officer, wnth extravagant 
gesticulations, explained something to the emperor, who turned 
and glanced at Colonel Buel, then with a smile, bade the officer 
let the elongated American alone. And the colonel watched 
the races from the royal stand. 

The colonel was one of the pioneers of Eureka, Nevada. 
He and his associates obtained a working bond on the Eureka 
Con.: built the furnaces and worked them successfullv ; thor- 
oughly opened the mines, when they sold out at a large 
advance to an English company. It wouM have been better 



136 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

for them had the sale fallen through, for the mines paid 
$1,000,000 per annum dividends for fifteen years. 

The colonel removed to Salt Lake and operated mines in 
Utah and in Nevada for several years, then went to Joplin, 
Missouri, and worked for awhile until finally, overborne by a 
life filled with hardships, died in St. Louis some eighteen or 
twenty years ago. 

He was one of the most typical of frontiersmen. No 
undertaking was too hazardous to make him quail, though 
when he was prosperous nothing was too good for him. He 
slept on the ground in every county in California ; he slept on 
the banks of the Eraser River when the rain that was falling 
was half ice; the sagebrush of Nevada made a good enough 
bed for him, and the simple food of the miner was a feast for 
him when he was prospecting, but in town he insisted upon 
the best, his ideas being that the man who did not get the finest 
that could be procured every day was discounting his own 
rights. 

He was honest in business and would throw any one who 
deceived him or played false, through a window on land, over- 
board at sea. He was an intense American ; he was public- 
spirited ; he wanted to see the foremost of other countries 
made second-class by comparison with his own ; he was sensi- 
tive of his own honor and had any man maligned a friend of 
his in his presence he would have broken him in two. He 
passed a stormy, restless, laborious career ; all his aspirations 
were high and true, and he prized his individual honor more 
than he did his life. 



WILLIAM H. CLAGGET. 

IlIJCARD of Billie Clagget first ab(nit 1864 as a bright 
lawyer and marvelous orator of Humboldt county. An 
old California friend who lived in Humboldt county, but 
who was making a brief business visit to Virginia City, said 
to me: "We have a young man out in Humboldt whom you 
are going to hear about one of these days. He is the son (jf 
the famous Judge Clagget of Iowa, splendidly grounded in 
the law. but it is as a speaker that he is going to win. When 
he talks he is sometimes a whole orchestra playing, sometimes 
just a great baritone chanting a battle hymn with organ accom- 
paniment." 

After a while we all knew him better. After Nevada was 
admitted into the Union his business often called him before 
the supreme court at Carson City. About 1866 he was a can- 
didate for Congress, but so many of us had made pledges to 
help friends who were candidates that we had to beat him in 
convention, and have been grieving over it ever since. 

The man nominated was a lawyer and in broad experience 
the superior of Clagget, but none of us loved him so much. 
Had any one else been defeated on that day we would all have 
forgotten it, but wdien Clagget's defeat is thought of a feeling 
of sorrow is awakened yet in the hearts of the very few who 
are left of that convention. 

I suspect it was that faculty of winning the sympathy for 
the cause he advocated, that gave the chiefest charm to his 
eloquence. 

He was a fine lawyer and natural great orator, but he 
never made a masterful success because of certain idiosyncra- 
cies of his mind. 

For instance, his idea of his own political sagacity in the 
handling of a campaign was like Richelieu's idea of his own 
poetry. He thought it the clearest evidence of his genius ; it 
was his utter weakness. 

lO 



138 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

An ordinary ward politician could beat all his combina- 
tions and shiver to atoms his most cherished plans. 

He was often the same way about business matters. I 
remember that on one occasion he was sanguine that he had 
secured the key which was going to make him a millionaire. 
He explained it to me. He told me of the hundreds of thou- 
sands of acres of worn-out lands that were in the state of Vir- 
ginia alone. He further explained that the land was not really 
worn out, but that because of the steady rotation of one crop 
certain of the original elements of the soil had been leached out 
or exhausted, that the alkali soil in places in Nevada possessed 
those very elements, and that with the alkali soil for a fertilizer 
the lands which were now practically almost valueless, would 
increase in value four or five hundred per cent. 

I asked him how much of the fertilizer he proposed to 
apply to the acre. He replied, "Oh, some hundreds of pounds, 
you know, it will cost nothing here in Nevada." 

"But," I asked, "how much will the freight upon it be 
from Nevada to Virginia?" 

He had never thought of that. 

He practiced law for a good many years and held his place 
up in the front rank of the marvelous bar of that state, but his 
charm was his eloquence. He had every attribute of an orator. 
His voice was glorious, there was a grace in every movement 
that was an enchantment and his mind was so equipped that 
he could draw his illustrations from every mine of knowledge. 
On the rostrum he was perfectly at home, while before a great, 
cheering crowd, one watching him thought instinctively of 
Job's war horse, "whose neck was clothed with thunder" and 
"saith among the trumpets, Ha, Ha ; and he smelleth the battle 
afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting." 

After a while he left Nevada and settled in Montana, when 
it was a territory. There the people sent him as a delegate to 
Congress. But a delegate from a territory has not much chance. 
He is expected to talk very little, save on questions pertaining 
to his own territory, and it must have been a torture to Clagget 
to listen in half-enforced silence as chump after chump, in a 



WILLIAM IL CLAGGET. 139 

lumbering' way. discussed themes which tliey but half under- 
stood and to which they could lend no inspiration. 

After a while Clagget visited Salt Lake and because of 
illness in his family remained in that city several nn)nths — the 
greater part of one winter. 

Toward spring he told me one day that he was going to 
(Oregon. I asked him if he beliexed that was a good state for 
a lawyer, whereupon he confided to me that he did not care 
abmit practicing law any more, but added: "I have money 
enmigh to buy 160 acres of land in Oregon and fix myself 
comfortably. I intend to plant 100 acres of the land to apples. 
There is no such country for apples as Oregon. I shall plant 
100 trees to the acre, plant them wide apart, so they will have 
plenty of sunlight. After eight years they will bring me net 
$10 to the tree. There is never any failure of crops there. Ten 
dollars to the tree will give me $1,000 per acre, and 100 acres 
will make my income $100,000 per annum, and that is as good 
to a prudent man as a million." It was a good thought. 

T saw him three or four years later and he told me the 
climate of the Willamette valley was too damp for him, that it 
gave him rheumatism, and that he had made his home in Idaho. 

Two or three years later he was a candidate for L'^nited 
States senator, and when the legislature met it was expected 
that he would be elected. The late O. J. Salisbury of Salt Lake 
City, who was very fond of hi)n. went to Boise to help him. 

He returned after two or three weeks and told me that it 
was no use : that Clagget had a plan which he was sure would 
win and would take no advice from friends, and added the 
belief that he would be defeated, or if elected it would be in 
spite of Clagget's management. He was defeated and two or 
three years later died. 1'he greatest sorrow that his death 
caused his friends was the thought that he died without ever 
ha\ing found the place where what was greatest in him could 
be made clear. What was masterful and grand in him seemed 
always under the donn'nation of that part of his brain that was 
not infrequently weak. Men with half his legal learning; not 
half his scholarship, possessing not one tithe of his eloquence, 
have made for themselves immortal names. 



WILLIAM M. STEWART. 

HE WAS six feet two inches in height, his natural weight 
in early manhood was about 210 pounds, which, with 
age increased to 250 pounds. He had a great wealth 
of reddish-brown hair, with immense whiskers and mustache 
of the same hue ; his eyes, I think, were gray, but under any 
light except sunligiit, they seemed to be black. He had fine 
hands and feet, and was a most impressive-looking man. 

He had, too, a bearing like that of a lion when he stalks 
up and down his cage and dreams of his days in the jungle 
when he was lord of all. 

He was born a little east of Rochester, New York, in 
Wayne county, and grew up on a farm. He received a fair 
education and studied law. But he did not know law enough 
to hurt, until after he reached California. 

When the news reached the east of the gold discoveries 
in the far west, he only waited to have the news confirmed, and 
then, going west, bought four or five yoke of oxen and a 
wagon, loaded what stores he thought he would need, and 
drove his oxen into California. No man from Pike county, 
Alissouri, could excel him in manipulating an ox team. 

When he sold his outfit, bought a few books and opened 
a law office in Nevada City, California, those who had seen 
him navigate his "prairie schooner" and oxen, resented the 
change and gave gloomy forecasts of the future of an accom- 
plished "bull-whacker" trying to be a lawyer. 

But Stewart was never sensitive and was always san- 
guine, and worked on the theory that a man who possessed 
the neeeded qualifications to successfully engineer an ox team 
across the continent might, if he tried, succeed in other fields 
of effort. 

He grew in his profession from the first. If, now and 
then, he received a metaphorical black eye from some giant 
at the bar like Colonel E. D. Baker or General Charles H. 



W ILLIAM M. STEWART. 141 

Williams, he was not discouraged, neither did he sulk in 
his tent, but went to work to fit himself to meet a like attack 
in future, and reasoned that after a while there would be no 
attacks that he could not parry. 

It is told that when the orij^inal James (iordon Bennett 
had a street scrap in Xew York, and i;ot the worst of it: he 
quietly went to a pump on the street corner, washed the blood 
from his face and eyes, then sat down on the curb, and wrote 
a pictures(|ue account of the collision for publication in his 
own paper, declaring, with proper journali^ic alertness, that he 
did not intend to permit the Tribune to get a scoop. 

Our idea is that Stewart would have done the same thing 
under like circumstances. 

His practice in California oscillated between Xevada 
county and Sierra county. Nevada City and Downieville being 
the respective county seats. 

He had sharp competition. There were Thornton, Taylor. 
Meredith, Dunn, Campbell, McConnell and a score more, and 
important cases drew from IMarysville and Sacramento their 
ablest attorneys, and many of them were giants. 

The resourcefulness of Stewart was something wonder- 
ful. Then, as said above, he was not sensitive, neither was he 
sentimental, and his nature all his life was to con(|uer any 
difficulty that he met. 

He commenced the construction of a fine house in Xevada 
City. Asked what he wanted of so pretentious a structure, he 
replied that the finest girl in all the Golden West had consented 
to marry him. and on a certain date he was going to San 
Francisco to get her to come up and put the house in order. 

At the appointed time he left for San Francisco. He 
called upon the lady — she was a most splendid woman — and 
tftld her he had come for her. Then, in the most delicate and 
pleading words she could master, she told him that she had 
thought that she loved him and meant to marry him. but that 
she had met another, and froiu that hour she had known that 
it would be wrong for her to marry any other man. 

Stewart made no comment, uttered no reproach, expressed 
no sorrow. l)Ut mcrelv asked the name of the fav<^red man. 



142 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

The lady told him, he bade her good-bye and went back to 
his hotel Soon, ex-Senator Foote — formerly of Mississippi, 
came in, and seeing Stewart, asked him to take a drink. Stew- 
art acquiesced, then asked Foote to drink, and they made a 
night of it and all the next day, and part of the second night. 

They had reached the limit and were lying side by side on 
the floor of Stewart's room, when Foote said : 

"Stewart, you are a northern man ; your political princi- 
ples are a disgrace to the world, but personally I like you 
exceedingly, and it will be a pleasure to me at any and all 
times to serve you personally." 

"You can do me a great favor right now," said Stewart. 
'T want your permission to ask your daughter Annie to be 
my wife." 

"Well," said Foote, "as I told you, your political princi- 
ples are a disgrace, but you are clever, and I never go back on 
my word, suh. Go and see and if you can fix up things with 
Annie all right. She might do worse." 

Stewart straightened up as rapidly as he could, and when 
fully himself, he called upon the young lady and asked her 
to be his wife. She wanted a little time to consider the matter, 
but Stewart insisted that every day she would be considering 
would be a day lost for them both, and he carried his point. 
Within a week they were married. Stewart carried his bride 
triumphantly home and it was a long time before Nevada City 
people new that Mrs. Stewart was not the lady that he had all 
the time expected to marry. 

By the way, the other lady married the man of her choice. 
The pair moved to Virginia City just about the time that Air. 
and Mrs. Stewart moved there, and the two men were ri\'als 
professionally and politically for years, Stewart winning more 
than half the honors professionally and all the honors polit- 
ically. But the other was the abler lawyer. 

The Comstock was just the field for ^^'illiam M. Stewart. 
The laws governing- mining titles at the time were confused 
and often of doubtful construction : the titles sometimes over- 
laid each other three times on the same ground, the courts 
were presided over in great part b}- juflges who in the east had 



WILLIAM AI. STEWART. 143 

I)een g^iven appointments because of political services rendered 
cono'ressmen ; the majority of them knew httle of the science 
of the law and nothing at all of the complications they would 
meet in the west; many of them were as corrupt as they were 
stupid ; there were witnesses who could be educated ; there were 
jurors who were not there because of the climate ; tremendous 
sums were often at stake, and fortunes were made or lost on the 
determination of a case. 

In such a field William M. Stewart was entirely at home; 
the forces around him were such rfs he loved to ride and control. 

Then he was, personally, much liked by the stormy crowds 
that surged up and down the great lode. He was generous, 
never apparently caring for money, a host was always ready 
to back him, and he had a courage that never failed him in or 
out of court. 

Much more profound lawyers than he thundered against 
him, and made arguments which before a great judge would 
have carried absolute conviction, but Stewart was never fazed ; 
he could appeal to juries and to those chumps of judges suc- 
cessfully, when his case had been torn to shreds, and in a thou- 
sand adroit ways baffle all legitimate conclusions. 

He made a great fortune between the time of the finding 
of the Comstock and the creation of the state of Nevada, and 
then was in such a position that it was conceded on all sides 
tliat he would be one of the first United States senators. 

He was elected almost without opposition. 

In the senate his first work was to frame a bill defining 
how quartz veins should be located, their extent, and what the 
location should include, pushed it through both houses and 
never rested until he had obtained the president's signature. 
For that service he is entitled to the gratitude of every mining 
man in the nation. 

He performed much other splendid work for his constitu- 
ents and for the west, and was one of the bulwarks of his partv 
in the senate on all the (juestions that were sprung in recon- 
struction days. He was a stalwart of stalwarts. Grant leaned 
on him, so did Conkling. Chandler. Carpenter — all of them. 

He maintained his place as one of the foremost senators 



144 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

until the silver question assumed an acute stage. So sanguine 
was he in the righteousness of the silver cause that he believed 
he could carry the senate his way. He did not realize that the 
cards were all stacked against him and when finally told by a 
friend that he was fighting a hopeless battle, he replied : "I 
may not convince them, but I can make the situation almighty 
disagreeable for them." 

At last, when he began to speak on that theme, senators, 
one by one, would get up and leave the hall. The gold press, 
too, assailed him with anathemas and ridicule, but neither 
senators nor newspapers could answer his arguments, and they 
are more pertinent today than when delivered. 

Mr. Stewart left the senate after serving two terms, was 
re-elected in 1885, and served two terms more. 

Filled with his old farmer memories, he went over into 
Virginia, bought a farm and started a dairy. But it was not 
a financial success. When his last term in the senate expired 
he returned to Nevada, built a fine house in Bullfrog and 
opened a law^ ofiice and remained there two years until the 
titles in Goldfield and adjacent camps were pretty w^ell set- 
tled. He then returned to ^^'ashington and made that city his 
home until in about 1908 he suddenly died. 

He was one of the most extraordinary men wdio ever lifted 
his head above the level in California and Nevada; one of the 
most forceful personalities in the nation. 

He had fine legal abilities, though not of the highest, but 
he was one of the most successful lawyers that the west ever 
knew. His executive abilities were wonderful. He would have 
made a superb state governor, a broad, enlightened president 
of a continental railroad company, and a much more able pres- 
ident of the United States than either of several who have been 
presidents. 

In preparing a case for trial not one detail was omitted 
to insure success ; in framing up a political campaign he was 
the same way. 

He liked to make money, but he cared little for it, and 
rich men received no consideration from him on account 
of their wealth. 



WILLIAM -M. STEWART. 145 

\\'hen one very ricli man was in much tn»nl)le he sent for 
Stewart to help him out. 

Stewart said: "T will do what I can for you, hut 1 don't 
like vour tone. You have heen a d — d old fool, hut now hrace 
up and take your medicine." 

He W'ES hearty and strong- to the very last, and (h'd not 
mind a champagne dinner that lasted all night. He should 
have lived many years longer. 

For some ailment he submitted to a petty operation, and 
died next day. My belief is that he died from the effects of 
the anesthetic administered to him. 

He was not only a great man. but one of the very truest of 
friends. His loyalty to his friends was one of the very finest 
of his manifold attributes. He would not permit any one to 
assail a friend of his in the friend's absence. 

He early clashed with President Cleveland, most naturally 
on the silver question. Shortly after the inauguration of Pres- 
ident McKinley, he came west. I asked him if the change of 
presidents w^ould make any difference in the status of silver in 
Washington. He thought it would not. I said, "The change 
of presidents then is not much more than a change of men ?" 

He replied: "That is about all except that the man who is 
now president is a gentleman." 

He made "The House of Stewart" a s^reat house. 



"RED" FRANK WHEELER. 

THERE were two prominent Wheelers in Nevada, one 
was dark and swarthy with intensely black eyes and 
hair; the other was light with reddish brown hair and 
blue eyes. Being in the same town, they were soon designated 
"Red Frank" and "Black Frank." 

"Red" Frank, when I met him first, had a saloon and eat- 
ing house combined in Hamilton, Nevada. Moreover, it was 
a central station for business men, prominent miners and 
strangers to congregate. 

It was natural, too, for "Red" Frank Wheeler was both a 
genius and master spirit among men. He kept an eating house 
and saloon because he was not very rich, but many a duller 
man has been given high places and earned for himself high 
honors. But "Red" Frank did not care for honors. His theory 
was that a man should get all the good he could out of life 
every day, for there was no certainty for the morrow. 

That winter of 1868-69 was a tough one in Hamilton; 
there were many poor men there; many in want. Hon. P. C. 
Hyman was mayor, and he had an understanding with Wheeler 
that his orders for meals would be honored at half price, and 
the poor were fed. 

Then the smallpox broke out and became epidemic : more- 
over, there was a great deal of pneumonia, and men do n(3t 
last long with pneumonia at an altitude of 8,500 feet above the 
sea. The calls for help were incessant, but they were promptly 
met. In this work "Red" Frank led. 

One night about 10 p. m., just as the mayor was about to 
retire, there was a knock on the door. He opened the door 
and there stood "Red" Frank. 

"Wliat is it, Frank?" asked the mayor. 

"A fine mayor .you are," was the reply. "Fine care vou 
are taking of the city, and the reputation of your friends." 

"What's the matter with you?" asked the mayor. 

"You had better ask," said Frank. "You know there are 



"RED" i'RAXK WHEELER. 147 

some boxes piled outside my place. Well, next door a man died 
of smallpox this evenin"'; his friends stole enough of my boxes 
to make a coffin, then returned the boxes in the form of a 
coffin and piled them on the other boxes." 

"Well, what have I to do with that?'' asked the mayor. 

"Oh. yes;" said Frank, "of course you are innocent. Init 
ha\e y(^u not the care of the smallpox patients?" 

"Suppose I have, how am I concerned if men steal your 
boxes?" asked the mayor. 

"But they have brought back the boxes." said Frank. 

"Very well, what is your growl now?" asked the mayor. 

"Why. of course, nothing," said Frank, "only the man 
who was a smallpox patient this afternoon is in the box and 
my customers swear that it is no good sign for a first-class 
hostlery. 

"But what could I do. at this time of night?" asked the 
mayor. 

"You can come and help me!" was Frank's answer. 
"Everybody is panicky. You and myself must see to this 
funeral." 

The mayor put on his hat and coat. They two took the 
coffin and carried it down to near the Big Smoky mill, when 
they met a man with a team. They told him what they wanted. 
l)ut when he learned of what the man had died, whipped up 
his horses and drove away. 

"Red" Frank looked as he disappeared and then said : 
"Mr. Mayor, that man ought to start a dairy!" 

"I give it up." said the mayor, "what's the joke?" 

"Why. is not his breast running over with the milk of 
human kindness?" was Frank's answer. 

They picked up the rude casket and carried it a little wav. 
when they met another team. They told the driver; he swung 
his team around and said: "Put the box on the sled and 
jump on yourselves!" He drove them to the cemetery. There 
they found picks and spades, shoveled the snow a wav. and 
>unk a grave. The ground was frozen more than two feet deep, 
hut they persevered, finished the grave, dropped the box into it 
and filled it up. and as they returned to town the east wa*^ 



148 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

beginning to shoot up the first signals of approaching dawn. 

As they were about to separate, Frank said : "Mr. Mayor, 
if you won't say anything about this I won't; you have done 
so many mean things that no one will beheve you if you do 
tell ; but, honest, I did not want that sign out on my boxes 
when morning came." 

Frank was careless about taking care of his money, and 
one night, to scare him into more careful habits, some friends 
went to his bed, woke him up and told him the safe had been 
robbed. 

He looked very grave for a minute, then turning to his 
clerk — who had just come on watch, asked how much money 
belonging to outside people was in the safe. The clerk replied, 
"Between fifteen and sixteen thousand dollars." 

Then Frank's face relaxed and he said : "Never mind, I 
have enough to make that good." He was not thinking of his 
own loss, but of those who had deposited money in his safe. 

Before going to Hamilton, Frank had lived long in Austin, 
Nevada, and knew everyone in eastern Nevada. 

So, when J. P. Jones became a candidate for senator in 
1872, Frank went to Gold Hill to look after his campaign. 

In a brief time the candidate became wonderfully attached 
to Frank, and when elected senator still kept him in his employ. 

Frank went as a delegate to the Republican national con- 
vention at Cincinnati, which nominated Hayes and Wheeler. 
Frank originally was an Ohio man and knew Cincinnati as well 
as he did Virginia City. He happened to stop at the same 
hotel that the candidate for vice president did. At night after 
the nominations, a brass band came around to serenade the can- 
didate. The two gentlemen had rooms on dififerent streets and 
the serenading party got on Frank's side and played "Hail to 
the Chief." Frank had not retired, and while the band was 
playing some instinct told him that it was a mistake, so when 
the crowd began to shout "Wheeler, Wheeler!" he stepped out 
upon the balcony and was greeted by a storm of cheers. Then 
a sudden silence fell and Frank, knowing what was expected, 
rose to the occasion with : 

"Gentlemen and fellow citizens! I thank vou sincerelv for 



'•Ki:i)" I'KAXK \\iii-:i:Li-:k. 149 

is fjreat liDiiiir. but I hold it as not intended for me. but for 
t' great office for which the convention today named me. 

"But the nomination ah'eady has brouglit a burden upon 
me, not that I fear defeat, for when I run for office I am 
always elected. But the whisper is already in my ear: "Can 
you fill the expectations of your countrymen when elected." 

"Your visit toni_c;-ht encourages me. for what American 
can fail when his arms are upheld by the confidence and sup- 
port <)f his fellow-countrymen? 

"Our country has been torn by a terrible war, and since 
its thunders died away it has been tossed as is a great ship 
when, in the midst of furious seas, the winds are suddenly laid, 
and the ship loses steerage way and rolls and wallows in the 
confused waste of waves. But, gentlemen. T have a happy pre- 
monition that when the great soldier statesman named today 
for president is elected an era of peace will follow. T need 
not tell you that if I shall be elected vice president. I shall so 
preside over the senate that I hope the entire senate will agree 
that in whatever else I may fail. T have known no north, no 
south, no east, no west, in my rulings. 

"Thanking you once more for this high compliment and 
with a prayer that the wounds of our country may soon be all 
healed, T bid you a happy good night." 

Returning to Nevada, Frank was asked about his speech 
when he replied: "It was a great speech under the circum- 
stances, but the newspaper cut out nearly all the telling points 
that T made, and the landlord of the hotel doubled my bill after 
he read it." 

When asked if it was true that the band played a funeral 
march as they retired, he answered : "You cannot tell what 
those Dutch in Cincinnati are going to do until they do it." 

After a while Frank's health began to fail. He had been 
burning life's candle at both ends for many years. 

At last he called upon two eminent physicians in San 
T-"rancisco and asked them to look him over. They did so. and 
then asked him about his habits of life for the previous ten or 
fifteen years. He answered them frankly, keeping back nothing. 



150 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Then one of them said : "If that is true we can save you 
some suffering, but we cannot long keep you alive." 

"I knew it," said Frank. "I knew it when I came to see 
you. I was only curious to see if you gentlemen were well up 
in your profession." 

A little later he could no longer leave his bed. Then he 
sent for his great friend, "Red" Davis, and said to him: "Did 
we not make a compact once in Austin?" Davis answered 
"Yes." "What was it?" asked Frank. Davis replied. "That 
whichever of us was called first, the other should see that he 
had a gentleman's funeral, even if he had to beg, borrow or 
steal the money. 

"Correct," said Frank, "I .shall need your services sooner 
than you think." 

"Oh, you will be all right in a few days, do not talk about 
quitting," said Davis. 

Then Frank said : "You don't know much, old friend. 
"My constitution was gone years ago. Since then I have been 
living on the by-laws, and they are beyond amendment now." 

A few days later he died. An hour before his deatli Davis 
called to see him. He was conscious, but could not articulate. 
He made a feeble motion which the nurse could not under- 
stand, but Davis did, and said to the nurse : "He wants a 
toddy." 

The nurse made the toddy and held it to his lips, but 
Frank feebly shook his head, looking at Davis. Then Davis 
said : "He wants me to have one." 

The nurse made a second one and gave it to Davis, then 
held the first one to Frank's lips. With the ghost of a smile 
he drank, and a few minutes later ceased to live. 

He was careless of himself. He might have made a great 
name, but he was indifferent to all that. He worked hard, his 
whole life's pathway was liqed with good deeds and he died 
as he had lived, without reproach, without fear. 



JAMES W. NYE. 

HI''. WAS not an Argonaut; not even a Nevada piDneer, 
l5Ut came by appointment as governor of Nevada when 
the territory was carved out of western Utah. But he 
would liave been a marked addition, liad he joined the first 
com]:)any of forty-niners. 

He was New York l)(^rn and bred : grew up in poverty ; 
studied law. practiced law in all the courts; was always a suc- 
cess, and at home among every class of people, from the fire 
Jackie of New York City to the President of the I'nited States ; 
from Captain Jim of the \\'ashoe Tribe to Abraham Lincoln ; 
and on the rostrum, from a bunch of cowboys to the Senate 
of the United States. He was nearly sixty years of age when 
he reached Ne\-ada. He was given a public reception and when 
it was over the verdict was that he would do. About five feet 
ten inches in height and massive, weighing about 200 pounds; 
small and high-born feet and hands, and with about the hand- 
somest, most expressive face that was ever given a man. 

His eyes were coal black, but they w-ere dancing eyes, like 
those of Sisyphus, and snow-white hair down upon his shoul- 
ders, like Henry Ward Beecher's. In repose his face was most 
striking, but the play of his features was wonderful ; everv 
emotion found expression in his face. Had he chosen an 
actor's career, I am sure that he would have stood first among 
actors in his generation in all roles from Falstaff to Macbeth ; 
though he would have failed, probably, in Shylock, for when 
llassanio and Antonio failed to pav. he would have hunted 
up the latter and said, "Brace up, Tony: if you need a little 
ready money, while I have none myself, I w-ill send vou to a 
man who has plenty and whom T think you can work for a 
loan." 

He was one of the most intense of Americans, and had 

lie full courage of his convictions. Had trouble come in 

\'e\ada as was predicted and threatened in the earlv sixties, 

C'p\ern<)r Nve would have been what Cin\-crnor ^[orton was 



152 AS I RE.MEMBER THEM. 

in Indiana. On the rostrntn he was a very glory of the earth, 
for he was familiar with e\ery phase of Imnian nature: it was 
impossible to take him by surprise : it was a delight lo have 
someone interrupt him and hear him flash back a reply that 
settled the question. lie was making a speech in Eureka, 
Nevada, one night after the war closed, and reconstruction 
had not quite run its unfortunate course. 

He was saying that the men of the South were our broth- 
ers ; that they had got off wrong; that many of them were still 
angry, but he was looking forward to the day which he 
believed was coming" soon, when their old devotion would come 
Ixack. and through their generous natures again fully awak- 
ened would be once more as they were at lUiena \'ista. 
when the struggle was to see which state could honor most the 
land which the fathers had l')equeathed to us. Just then Major 
McCoy, who was a Mexican war veteran, but who in the 
great war had been so fierce a secessionist that when the con- 
federacy collapsed he had expatriated himself and gone to 
Mexico to remain there some years, interrupted with the (|ues- 
tion : "Senator, if those are your sentiments, why are you so 
loath to giving Southern men full official rec(^gnition ?" 

The old jolly look came over Nye's face, and he said : 
"When I was a boy I was walking- one very cold winter day 
from Bridgeport, on Oneida Lake, to Syracuse, when, hearing 
sleighbells coming rapidly, I stepped out into the snow to let 
the sleigh pass. It proved to be a fancy New York cutter 
drawn by a span of perfectly matched Black Hawk horses. 
The trappings on the horses were silver-plated ; the cutter was 
filled with fine robes and was driven by a middle-aged man. 
As the rig flashed by me it was, to my eyes, a vision of beauty. 
The man saw me and as soon as he could pull up the team 
— the morning was frosty and the ste]ipers were pushing the 
bits hard — called to me to come quick and get in. I ran and 
climbed in. the man holding the team steady with one hand and 
with the other tucked me all up with (^ne robe and then drew 
a second robe over my lap and I knew I had struck a bonanza. 

"By this time the Hawks were fairly flying — you kn(^w 
they can only strike alxmt a three-minute clip, but can keep 



JAMES W. NYE. 153 

it up all (lay. Tiie man was talking low to them and I know 
now that they were making his arms ache. This went on for 
about fifteen minutes. I was snug and warm under the robes, 
when I looked up at the man and proposed that he give me 
the reins, telling him that I knew lots about horses. He 
glanced down at me and said : "My boy, when you grow wise 
you will know more than you do now and will learn that an 
invitation to ride does not carry with it any obligation to let you 
drive." The major asked no more questions. 

Just after the war he was making a speech. The pas- 
sions of all men were strung to their utmost tension in those 
'lays, and he was explaining all that was being done to recon- 
struct the south, when some one in the audience said, "But. 
senator, the war is over." 

He made two strides forward on the stage and with eyes 
blazing, thundered : "Yes ; but for an original unrepentant 
rebel there is no cure save through death; no justification save 
through ages of hell fire." 

But he did not mean it. Heaving that a confederate offi- 
cer who was a close friend of one of his own friends, was in 
prison in Fort Lafayette, under a charge that, when captured, he 
was within the federal lines as a spy, Nye first went to Presi- 
dent Lincoln and obtained a pardon for the man. then went ut) 
to Fort Lafayette, got the man released, advised him to quietly 
take the first steamer for California, then to go to Nevada : 
gave him a list of names of good fellows out there, put a 
roll of $1,200 greenbacks in his hand and bade him good-bye. 
He explained later that the greenbacks were worth only fortv- 
seven cents on the dollar, so he was not out much. 

He and the late Senator Stewart w^ere the first senators 
from Nevada to Washington. Nye's seat was next to that of 
Senator Sumner of Massachusetts. 

They became warm personal friends, for as Nve said : 
"Sumner meant well, even if he did not know much." He 
said when he first took his seat, Sumner looked down upon him 
from an infinite height and said, with all dignity: "Good morn- 
ing. Senator Nye." "Good morning," Senator Sumner." was 
the reply. Tn the course rif a few days .Sumner began to relax 

11 



154 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

and one morning said: "Good morning, Mr. Nye." And Nye, 
responding, said: "Good morning, Mr. Sumner." "After 
about a month," said Nye, "I went in one morning and Sumner 
said: 'Good morning, James,' and I said: 'Charlie, my boy, 
how are you?' " 

The second year Nye was in the Senate a furious debate 
was sprung on some question of the management of the war, 
and one senator grossly criticised President Lincoln. When 
the speech was finished, Nye sprang to his feet, and for twenty 
minutes held the Senate spellbound. The burden of the speech 
was to picture the mighty burdens under which the patient 
president was staggering and the cowardice of senators who, in 
such a crisis, instead of holding up his hands, would add to 
these burdens. Nye had a private key to a side-door in the 
White House, and went there nights to "swap stories" with 
Lincoln. 

Nye received a letter one day, informing him that a bri- 
gade of New York soldiers, stationed at some point in Arkan- 
sas or Missouri, had been overlooked and were suffering for 
food and clothing". Next morning he called at the war office 
and sent in his card to Secretary Stanton. He told me that 
he wrote under his name — the only time he ever did it in his 
life — "U. S. Senator." He was shown in. Stanton was stand- 
ing behind a little counter, and as Nye approached, Stanton 
said curtly: "What can I do for you, sir?" Nye presented the 
letter and asked the secretary to read it. Stanton glanced over 
it hastily, and pushing it back, said sharply: "I have no time 
for these little things." "Will you ])lease take the time, sir?" 
said Nye. Then Stanton said hotly : "Do you know who you 
are talking to, sir?" Nye stepped up close to the counter and. 
holding out one finger, said : "You will change that tone of 
yours right quick or you will know very soon who you are 
talking to." "Then," said Nye, "we glared at each other for 
a second or two, and then Stanton opened a little door in the 
counter and said politely : 'Walk in. Senator Nye,' and we had 
everything fixed in five minutes." He added: "Something 
about the incident seemed to please the clerks within hearing 
a G'ood deal." 



•V JAMKS W. XVE. 155 

One day in the Senate Sumner made one of his mean 
speeches, asserting that no great race had ever sprung from 
helow latitude 37.40. As Sumner sat down Nye arose, and, 
being instantly recognized, explained that he would take but a 
moment of the time of the Senate, that he desired only to call 
•lention to the unfortunate fact that the learned senator from 
.Massachusetts had not lived prior to the coming of our Savior, 
because, had he done so, when the Messiah came to give in- 
structions to his disciples he would have said : "Go ye forth 
and preach the gospel to all peoples, nations and tongues, north 
of 37.40," and sat down. 

Sumner turned to him and said : "There is no argument 
in that." To which Nye responded: "Of course not. There 
was not a trace of sense in what you said." 

Nye had the scriptures at his finger ends. In the hot 
campaign of 1868 the national committees sent Nye up to a 
town in Connecticut to make a Republican speech. He 
reached the place about noon. The local committee met and 
welcomed him, but explained that it would be useless to try 
to have a political meeting, that the whole region thereabouts 
had gone wild over a religious revival, that they were holding 
ser\ices day and night and that the work of grace was doing 
wonders. 

Nye told them that he was glad of it. that he did not want 
to make a political speech, but would like to attend their after- 
noon meeting, adding that while not a member of any church, 
he had a Christian mother, and if he might be allowed to speak 
for a few minutes he believed he might interest the children. 

This was hailed with delight, and when the great congre- 
gation had assembled in a grove in the open air. the head 
deacon cxjilained to the audience that a rare treat was in 
store for them, that the great "gray eagle. Senator Nye" of 
Nevada was present: that while not a professed Christian he 
was brought up under Christian auspices and had kindly con- 
sented to address the congregation. Nye was then presented 
and turned that sovereign face of his upon the audience. His 
own account was like this : 

"T looked them over a minute and thev became verv still. 



156 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Then, as impressively as I could, I repeated the twenty-third 
Psalm, beginning-, 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not 
want.' Then I gave them a few flirts from Job and a couple 
of rib-roasters from Isaiah, and in fifteen minutes I was giving 
tlieni as robust a Republican speech as they ever heard. I held 
them for two hours, and when I closed I noticed an old girl 
who was sitting in the front row wiping her eyes, and could not 
help hearing her say : 'The gentleman may not be a profes- 
sor, but nothing can convince me that he is not full of saving 
grace.' " 

It was a custom in mining towns for merchants to keep 
donkeys, so when an outside miner bought a bill of goods, they 
were packed on a donkey, the miner led him to his cabin, 
unloaded the pack and turned the donkey loose. The wise 
creature would at once return to town. 

Nye was speaking in Austin. Nevada, one of those match- 
less Nevada summer nights, and everybody was out to hear 
him. He had hardly got under way when a donkey started 
around the crowd on a fast trot, braying as though his heart 
was breaking. It seemed as though he would never stop, and 
when he did, the echoes came back almost as distinct and loud 
from old Mount Toyabe, and, of course, the audience was con- 
vulsed. It was ten minutes before the tumult was settled. 
Then Nye, stretching out his hand, said : "Ladies and gentle- 
men, that does not disturb me in the least. I have never tried 
to make a Republican speech in Nevada that the opposition 
have not trotted out their best speakers to try and down me." 

Senator Nye was called upon once to address a gathering 
of Sunday school children. The burden of his talk was that 
the utmost care should be taken to see that children receive 
upon their plastic hearts only good impressions, so lasting 
were they. To accentuate his words he drew a fifty-cent piece 
from his pocket, held it before the children, and told them that 
when a small boy that silver piece had been given him by the 
great Daniel Webster, that foremost of statesmen. 

Then he told them that since then he had often been hun- 
gry, often cold, for in childhood he. had not sufficient clothing 
for a New York winter ; often he had seen dainties which he 



JAMES W. NYE. 15/ 

coveted, but that nothing could ever induce him to part with 
that silver, for it had been held in the hand of the matchless 
Webster, and by that hand given to him. By this time he was 
o\ercome with emotion, and was crying, and so were half the 
women and children before him. 

\\ hen he finished and was retiring from the hall a friend 
said to him: "Senator, where did you get that half dollar?" 
"Got it from a bootblack this morning," was the reply. 

He was riding on the cars in Central New York one 
morning when he saw an old man in another seat whose face 
seemed familiar. He studied the face for several minutes, 
when a leaf of memory turned in his brain, and, going over 
and sitting down by the old man, he said : "Is not your name 
Hax'ter?" The man said it was. 

"Well," said Nye, "do you remember that a little after 
daylight one November morning some forty-five years ago you 
took into your house a fourteen-year-old boy who had been 
walking on the tow-path of the canal all night; took him in. 
i^axe him a hot breakfast — sausage and eggs and buckwheat 
cakes and honey, pumpkin-pie and coffee ; how your wife gave 
him a pair of shoes and stockings, a muffler for his neck and 
mittens, and when he went away filled his pockets with Rhode 
Island Greening apples, doughnuts, gingerbread and cheese?" 

The old man said he did recall something of the kind. 

"Well, I was that boy." said Nye. "and I wanted to ask if 
your wife was still spared to you, and if all was well with you." 

The man replied that his wife was still with him, but that 
he had been unfortunate; that he was forced some years before 
to mortgage their little farm for $800; that now, with interest, 
costs and lawyers' fees the debt amounted to within a few dol- 
lars of $1,400: that the sheriff would sell the place at noon that 
day at Little Falls : that he was on the way to see who bid it 
in and to see if he could get a lease from the buyer so that his 
wife would not be forced to give up her old home. Then the 
old man burst into tears. Nye told him that he was a lawver : 
that he. too, was going to Little Falls, and would accompany 
him to the sale: that he might help him in fixing up the papers. 

Thcv went to the sale together. Nve found out the exact 



158 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

amount of the mortgage and costs, bid in the property, had 
the sheriff make out the deed in Baxter's wife's name, paid 
the money, placed the deed in the old man's hands and told him 
to go home and tell his wife that the home would always be 
hers. He further told him that really the money had cost him 
nothing, that it was a fee a client, one King Faro, had paid him 
for a trifling service. 

The old man was overcome and asked Nye where he could 
be found. Nye told him in the Senate chamber at Washing- 
ton. Four weeks later the old man and his wife found him 
in Washington, and Nye, speaking of it, said later: "If the 
great bookkeeper up above saw that meeting, it's a twenty 
dollar piece to a ducat that, with their gratitude, he balanced a 
mighty tough column that he held in his ledger against me." 

But this is growing too long. With the most character- 
istic story of Nye ever told, we will close. 

He went to Europe one summer late in the sixties, and 
went as far as Constantinople. He wired the American min- 
ister there that he was coming. The minister informed the 
Grand Vizier that a senator of the United States would arrive 
in the city that evening. He informed the Sultan and the 
wSultan ordered a review of all the 30,000 soldiers in the city 
the next day in his honor — those superb soldiers that stood off 
Skobelorff so long at Plevna, a little later. We take up 
the story as Nye told it : "They gave me a pure Arabian horse 
to ride. You should have seen him. Eyes like an eagle's, 
nostrils you could put your fist in, coat like velvet, and he felt 
under you like steel springs, but still was biddable as a great, 
good-natured, friendly Newfoundland dog. I rode him through 
the review and divided honors with the Sultan. On dismount- 
ing I could not repress my admiration for the horse. The 
interpreter explained what I had said to the Grand Vizier, 
whereupon he made a very low salaam, saying something as he 
bowed. The interpreter explained that his highness, the Grand 
Vizier, begged to be accorded the honor of presenting the horse 
to my excellency. I made a rapid calculation. I had not the 
money to pay the freight on him ; I could think of no one to 
whom I might send for the freight money, and so I took high 



JAMES W. NYE. 159 

.C^roiind. I made a salaam that must have made the Grand 
Vizier's look hke an amateur's and bade that interpreter explain 
t(^ his highness how honored I would feel to receive so royal a 
present, but that it was against the constitution and laws of 
the great republic, my country, for a senator of the United 
States to receive any present from any foreign prince, potentate 
or power." 

A moment later, he said: "Why. do you know, had T 
ha\e had that freight uK^ney I would not have taken $2,000 
tMi" my chance on that horse?" 

Nye was tweh'e years senator from Nevada, but was 
defeated in the election of 1878. He left San Francisco on 
the steamer, apparently well, but after arriving home he was 
found wandering daft in the streets of Richmond, Va. He 
could not explain how he got there. He was taken to Bloom- 
in-^dalo as\-luni. where he died a few months later. 



JOHN W. MACKAY. 

Wlll-:X 1 heanl the news of the death of Mr. ]\lackay 
1 thought instinctively of the old Persian legend, 
and said to myself: "Had he dded in a deep wil- 
derness, as did the old king, all the lions in the forest would 
have assembled, the strongest and stateliest oi them would 
have taken up their stations aromul him and held ward and 
watch until men came to bear the body away for sepulchre, 
for the instinct that a masterful soul had tied would have come 
to the forest and its sovereigtis would have gathered to guard 
the dust which had been that soul's tabernacle." 

When the soul of Abraham Lincoln took its tlighl. the 
light shining back from it caused the children of men all arinind 
the world to stop in awe. and the men of his own race through 
their tears to see how diniiued had been their eyes, how feeble 
tiieir comprehension of the man o\ sorrows w ho had been their 
President. 

But ]\lr. Alackay had been but an humble citizen. Xo 
otTlicial luniors had any lure t'or him ; he had ne\er sought any 
notoriety and to the w^orld at large he went to his grave merely 
as one of the world's rich men, though the highest in the land, 
east and west, had besought him to accept a United States 
senatorship. 

Only a few of us wdio had found out his real nature kn(>\\ 
his sterling worth, the motives that guided his life, the real 
nature of his high soul, and the splendor of his character. 

He was five feet ten inches in height, weighed one lunidred 
and sixty-tive pounds, his eyes were blue-gray, his hair brown, 
his complexion ruddy — -that ruddiness that comes where the 
w'arm air blowing across the Gulf stream keeps Erin perpetu- 
ally green. I never saw^ him show an^'thing like exultation 
over being rich, but once, atul that was but a Hash of his eves. 
In the winter of 1876-7 the famine was sore in Ireland. 1 
mentioned it in his presence iMie day. lie said. "Yes," but 
added : "Inhere are a good many \ioov people right here, but 



JOTIX W. MACKAV. 161 

vou may thank Cioi] that none ol' tlicm are eitlicr cold or 
hungry." 

We (\\(\ not know tlie ti'uth unlil k'ller, and found it out 
(hen by accident. In the previous October all the soutlieist 
half of Virj^inia City was destroyed by fire, includinj^ tl.e Con 
Cal Viijjfinia and other hoistinjj;' works, offices, etc. in the 
crisis of the fire, when the miners were dynamitinj^ the houses 
on the west sirle of D street, and filHnjjf the sliafts to a depth 
of thirty feet to where the caj^-es had been lowered, with bags 
of sand, and covering the floors of the hoisting works around 
the cages with sand two or three feet deep and Mr. Mackay 
was everywhere directing the work, a devout old Irish lady 
ajiproached him and said: "Oh, Mr. Mackay, the church is 
on fire!" All the answer that he vouchsafed was, "D — n the 
church, we can build another if we can keep the fire from 
going down these shafts!" 

The old lady went away shocked, but next morning Mr. 
Mackay called u{)(m b'ather — later Bishop Monogue and said: 
"There is a good deal of suffering here. Father. If 1 try to 
hel]) personally T shall be caught by two or three grafters and 
then will be liable to insult some worthy men and women. 1 
turn the business over to you and your lieutenants. Do it 
thoi(jughly, and when you need help draw upon me and keep 
drawing." In the ne.xt three months Father Monogue drew 
upon him for $150,000, and every draft was honored on sight, 
and the old Irish lady saw, besides, a church grow out of the 
embers of the old one, and it was larger and more beautiful 
tlrin the one that had been destroyed. 

After Mr. Mackay made his first little fortune, he lost 
$300,000 in an Idaho mine. No one knew it but himself, but 
he told me long after that he lost that money just when he 
could not afford to do so. and, while he was counted rich, as 
riches were rated then, he was struggling under a heavy load. 
I lis firm was trying to get control of a mine that Mr. Sharon 
wanted the control of, and one day they clashed in the branch 
California bank of which Mr. Sharon was manager. Sharon 
w.'is a sm.'dl man. and all the last years of his life in delicate 
lierdlh. Ihit he was hot tempered, and when angry did not 



162 " AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

care what he said. On this occasion lie was standing" l)ehind 
the rail which shut off the public, and Mr. Mackay stood out- 
side. The contrast between the men was most marked ; Sharon 
w-as small, pale and frail, Mackay in the flush of perfect man- 
hood, erect, compact, alert and with the easy bearing of a wary 
tiger in captivity. The dispute grew sharper and sharper 
until at last Sharon told Mackay that if he did not go slow he 
would make him pack his blankets out of Virginia City. ^lac- 
kav flushed red, his hands opening and shutting for an instant 
and then he controlled himself and in a husky voice and with 
the stammer which always came to him wdien angr\'. said : 
"You wn'll? Very well, I will still have a mighty sight the best 
of you : I can do it." 

But some months later, as Mackay came, down town one 
morning he met Billie Wood, one of the bank attorneys, who 
asked him how things were going with him. "I must have 
$60,000 today or lose stocks which in three months would make 
me twenty times $60,000." "Come up to my oflice," said 
Wood, "and tell us about it." They went to the ofiice, w! ich 
w^as over the bank, where Sunderland, the partner of Wood, 
was. Wood explained to Sunderland the situation and Sunder- 
land made a memorandum of the stock, and saymg "Wait here 
a few minutes, Mackay," went out. He returned within ten 
minutes with a note and a check on the bank for a like amount, 
and, laying the two papers down, said, "Sign the note, Mr. 
Mackav, and at your convenience leave the stocks in the bank." 

Mackay glanced at the check and saw that it was the per- 
sonal check of Sharon. 

"Did Sharon do this?" asked Mackay. "Yes, he was glad 
to do you the favor," replied Sunderland ; "and let me give y»^u 
a little advice. You and Sharon are both too hot-tempered 
to quarrel with each other. When you both feel like fighting 
at the same time, separate and fight outsiders." 

But there was no more disposition on Mackay's part to 
fight Sharon, and when Sharon later was in real trouble, Mac- 
kay was as a brother to him. 

In his younger days, Mackay had much repute as an 
athlete and boxer. One dav wdien the Bonanza was at its best. 



JOllX. W. AlACKAV. 163 

he asked R. M. Daggett and myself to go down in the mine 
with him. He sent the message by Colonel Obiston, who was 
then superintendent of the (jould and Curry — one of the Bo- 
nanza hrm's mines. He said to Obiston: "Those fellows up in 
the print shop think I get my money easy. I want to show 
them." 

W'e went down into the mine and began to explore it. But 
Daggett was fat and, not much accustomed to exercise, and 
fifteen minutes of going up and down lactdei;s and into hot 
drifts was enough for him. He found where an air pipe was 
supplying the mine with air, sat down in front of it and 
declared that he had no interest in examining mines that he 
did not own personally, and making $7,000 reports of them for 
nothing, especially for people who kept their mines as hot as 
that was. It must not be forgotten that in a hot summer day, 
after an hour's visit to a lower level of the Comstock.on ascend- 
ing, as the cage emerges from the shaft the summer air strikes 
one like a plunge into a cold bath. On that day. after going 
t\tt rounds, we were hoisted out of the mine and went to the 
dressing room to throw off the mining suits, bathe and resume 
our own clothing. When ]\Iackay had thrown off the gray 
shirt he "put up his props" before Daggett, in challenge for a 
boxing match. Daggett cried out. "Wait until I am ready, and 

"T will lay on for Tuscuhim ; 
Do thou lay on for Rome." 

But a moment later he said : "On second thought I 
decline. When I Ijecome excited I strike too terrible a blow, 
and you are poor and have a family to support." 

While in the mine that day. Daggett asked Mr. Mackay 
how much money he had. and he replied: "I have twelve 
millions of dollars now and believe I have yet twenty-five years 
of good work in me." He died almost exactly twentv-five 
years later. 

But. speaking of his fondness for athletic sports. T suspect 
he was more responsible f^r the career of Jim Corbett than any- 
one else. After the Bonanza davs. Corbett was a clerk in the 



164 AS I REMEAIBER THEM. 

Nevada bank in San Francisco. For exercise the clerks had 
fixed a little g-ynmasium in the basement of the bank. Mackay 
often went down to watch the young men in their exercise. He 
noticed the wonderful quickness and precision of Corbett. 

Many young Englishmen who went to San Francisco car- 
ried letters to Mr. Mackay. They were often fresh from 
Oxford or Cambridge, and their talk naturally drifted to ath- 
letics. Then Mackay would tell them that there was a boy in 
the bank who was right handy, and if they expressed any 
desire to meet him, he would be called from his work and go to 
the basement, and it was with grim humor that Mackay would 
watch Corbett "do them up." 

He had another kind of humor. One day the boys were 
down in the Con Virginia office fixing up a slate for candi- 
dates for city offices, \\diile thus engaged, Mr. Mackay swung 
around in his chair and asked, "What are you going to do for 
Jasen Baldwin?" (Baldwin was bright and shrewd and win- 
some, but there was a loose puHey somewhere in his brain; he 
lacked application and thrift.) 

Colonel Osbiston replied that Baldwin wanted to run for 
constable, l)ut he had nn money. Then Mackay said : "Send 
him down here. I will give him $500. If we do not get him 
an office we will have to fix a place for him and he is not a 
first-class worker." 

Osbiston soon found him and said: "Baldwin, whv do 
you not run for constable?" 

"Because I have not a cent to treat the boys," was the 
reply. 

"How much do you need?" asked Osbiston. 

"I need two hundred and fifty dollars," said Baldwin. 

"Well," said Osbiston, "go down and Mr. Mackay will 
give it to you." 

"Yes. he will ; he will fire me out of the office," said 
Baldwin. 

"No, it will be all right, T know," said Osbiston. 

Baldwin thought it over and then went down, walked up 
to the rail and said to the secretarv : "^^'ill vou inform Air. 



JOHN. W. MACKAV. 165 

Mackay that Mr. lialdwin is liere and would like a brief inter- 
\ie\v ?" 

He was shown in and said : "Mr. Mackay, I want to bor- 
row two hundred and fifty dollars." 

"You want to borrow it? What is your security?" asked 
Mr. Mackay. 

"The security is a little thin, but there is no end of it." 
said Baldwin. 

"You would give your note, would you not?" asked the 
Bonanza king. 

"Oh, yes," said Baldwin. 

Mr. Mackay turned to his desk, made out a note, filled in 
a check and pushing both papers across to Baldwin, said : 
"Sign the note, Baldwin, and there is your money." 

Baldwin picked up a pen and signed the note, when Mac- 
kay said, "Had you not better read that note before you 
sign it?" 

Baldwin held it up and read aloud : "On demand, for 
value received, I promise to pay to the order of John ^^^ 
Mackay two hundred and fifty dollars with interest at the rate 
of five per cent per day until paid." Dropping the paper, he 
turned to Mackay and said : "Mr. Mackay, make it five hun- 
dred dollars, and put the interest at 10 per cent per minute!" 

Tn Bonan/ca days the men were paid in coin. A window 
was opened in the secretary's office. Before it was a table on 
which there were se\eral tills, such as are used in banks, and 
filled with twenty-dollar pieces, twenty in each column, making 
$400 as in all western banks, and a great heap of silver coins 
in the center of the table. As each miner came to the window 
and gave his name, a clerk would name the amount due him. 
and another clerk would pay in gold and silver. 

One pay day, when this was going on, Mr. Mackay was 
sitting inside the rail in conversation with a San Francisco 
gentleman who had expressed a desire to see how the men 
were paid off. 

T.ooking up, Mr. Mackay saw ati old Irish ladv bending 
over the rail. He arose, went to her and heard her begin to 
say. "O Mr. Mackay. we are very poor — " then he broke awav. 



166 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

went to the table, picked up three of the $400 rolls, returned 
and said low to her, "Hold up your apron." When she did, he 
dropped the money into it and said, "Go right away now, 
please. I am very busy." 

When the great actor, Adams, returned, dying, from Aus- 
t'ah'a to San Francisco, he started out and went from theatre 
to theatre, trying to secure an engagement. But every man- 
ager saw how feeble he was, that he could not bear up under 
the strain of a single play, and put him off with one or another 
excuse. He returned to his room exhausted and almost broken- 
hearted. This was long- before bonanza days and before any 
of the Bonanza firhi was rich. Adams had been obliged to 
take to his bed immediately on reaching his room. As he lay 
there ill almost unto death and in despair, suddenly, without a 
knock, the door opened and Mr. Mackay entered softly. He 
greeted Adams cordially, talked hopefully to him, telling him 
that he knew that in a few days he would be his old self again, 
keeping up the talk for several minutes, when, rising, said 
he must go, but added : "Adams, you do not seem to be lying 
comfortably," and bending over him put one arm under his 
shoulders, raised him up, and, with the other hand, rearranged 
his pillows, then, laying him down, said he would see him again 
very soon and left the room. A little later, the colored man 
who was waiting- on Adams asked to help him to a near-by 
lounge, that he might make his bed for the night. This was 
done, but when he turned the pillows back he said : "Why, 
Mr. Adams, here's a letter." Adams opened it and read 
the following : 

"My Dear Adams : I have long owed you a great debt 
for the pleasure you have given me by your fine performances. 
I am sure you will not be offended if I begin to pay you in 
installments, of which I enclose the first one. 

"Sincerelv your friend, 

' "J. W. Mackay." 

With the letter was a check for $2,000, and it was never 
known until McCullough, the actor, told it at a banquet in New 
York. And he added, the tears streamino- down his cheeks 



JOHN. W". MACKAN". 167 

as he spoke: "We found the letter under Adams' ])i]lo\v when, 
a tew weeks later, he died."' 

The hardest trial that Mr. Mackay ever passed thmu^ii 
in the husiness world, the one that most clearly revealed the 
tenacity of the man and made clearest his integrity of purpose, 
came to him after he thought his fortune was secure. 

When the founding of the Nevada Bank was being con- 
sidered, Mr. Mackay had said, "Go ahead if you think l)est, 
1)ut do not bother me with the business: that is altogether out 
I >f my line, unless you get to advancing money on mining 
stocks, then I shall want to know what you are doing. The 
liank was started, also the branch l)ank in A^irginia City. It 
will be remembered that in the winter and spring of 1884 or 
1885. a series of great rains and floods swept the whole south- 
ern country from San Francisco and Los Angeles clear across 
the country to Galveston. The Southern Pacific railroad was 
the greatest sufferer from the storms. One niorning in San 
Francisco Mr. Flood, president of the Nevada Bank, met Mr. 
Charles Crocker. They stopped on the sidewalk, but after a 
moment Flood said to Crocker: "You seem to be cast down 
this morning. Anything special the matter?" 

Crocker replied : "T am al)out ready to give up." Then 
he explained that the road was washed out in a hundred places ; 
that cars with costly merchandise were strung all the way from 
San Francisco to El Paso, and the amount of money needed 
to put the road in repair was appalling. "How much money 
is needed?" asked Flood. "T am afraid to say," was Crocker's 
reply. 

"The best way to meet trouble is to look it squarelv in the 
face." said Flood. "Tell me how much money vou require." 

Crocker answered: "T think $5,000,000." "Well," said 
Flood, "make out a note and ha\e Go\ernor Stanford sign it 
with you. and the bank will cash it." 

P>ut the cashier of the bank, a young man, was furious 
nl)out it. He declared that no bank had anv right to loan 
$5,000,000 on any two men's signatures, no matter whom 
they might be. 

Some months later, Mr. Flood was confined b\- illness to 



168 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

his home in San Mateo, and the bank was left in charge of 
this same cashier. 

Abont the same time, unconscious of any trouble, ^fackay 
sailed for Paris by London, to visit his family. Arriving in 
London he called at the bank which was the London corre- 
spondent of the Nevada Bank. He was shown into the pre'^- 
ident's room and after a few minutes' conversation, the pres- 
ident said : "You are doing a heavy business in your San 
Francisco bank, are you not?" 

"Nothing unusual that I know of," was the reply. "What 
leads vou to such a conclu<?ion?" 

"Why," said the president, "your bank's account is over- 
drawn with us more than £100,000." 

Mackay turned over private securities which he was hold- 
ing in London, settled the overdraft, wired his wife that he was 
obliged to return to America, took the next steamer and hurried 
to San Francisco. A man had tried to corner the wheat mar- 
ket and had hypnotized this same cashier, and when Mr. Mac- 
kay reached San Francisco, he found that he had advanced 
this wheat cornerer more than $30,000,000. The ships car- 
rying the grain were strung all the way from Port Costa to 
Liverpool, and wheat was falling in price. He said he did not 
know in that hour whether one cent of his fortune would be 
left or not, or whether he would not also be in debt. 

Sometime before Mr. Fair had withdrawn from the bank, 
but that morning he entered the bank, walked up to Mr. Mac- 
kay, and laying his hand upon his shoulder, said: "I hear 
vou are in some trouble, John. T sold a little railroad yester- 
day, and have $3,000,000 over in another bank. If it will do 
you any good, you are welcome to it." 

They worked out, but Flood and Mackay lost $12,000,000. 

Then Mr. Mackay said to Flood : "Don't be cast down. 
We have lost a little money, but have a little left and we will 
get along." But Mr. Flood never rallied from it, and died a 
few months later. 

In face and hand and foot, Mackay showed that he came 
of gentle stock ; in natural bearing, he was imperious as a 
Caesar, with the walk of a trained soldier, but it was onlv in his 



JOHN. W. MACKAY. 169 

bearing. As he mingled witli men, there was not one l(jok 
or word or gesture that was not winsome, unless some base 
nature crossed him. 

Most men can bear misfortune. To toil and to be disap- 
jxiinted is so often the fate of men that it may be called the 
rule. 

But when the wealth of a kingdom comes suddenly to a 
man, then the manhood of the man is tried; then if aught of 
vanity or false pride or love of power or display attaches to 
him it comes at once to the surface, and its manifestation is a 
trial to witness. 

Mr. Mackay in youth started out with a fixed belief in the 
omnipotence of labor. He believed it was capital enough for 
any healthy man in this country. By nature he was impetu- 
ous, quick of temper, resolute, never asking odds, always ag- 
gressive, always borne up w^th a belief that he could fight his 
way through, trusting only in his own brain and the physical 
equipment which nature had given him. 

After years of incessant labor, and all the hardships which 
are inseparable from a miner's life, John \\\ Mackay awakened 
one morning to find himself twenty times a millionaire. 

He knew that mankind burned incense to success. He 
knew that if desired all honors in the political w orM were open 
to him; that all social triumphs might be his; but the thought 
that controlled him was that wealth in this world is a trust; 
that the greater the wealth, the more exacting is the obligation 
to use it righteously. 

Plis former work had made him an ''industrial king."" He 
had laid his hands upon the desert mountains of Nevada and 
wrested from them vast treasures. His fortune was a crea- 
tion ; so much added to the wealth of the world. Labor had 
been his trust always; he continued to work. He next laid 
his hand upon the sea and stretched a cable beneath its storms 
and its surges, a living wire, a right arm for commerce, a 
link in the chain of peace. He supplemented this with a 
telegraph service that controlled a continent; could his life 
have been spared two years more, he would have completed a 
"girdle round about the earth" which would have realized 

1-2 



170 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Puck's dream. He wore the harness of toil until the moment 
that his final call came. 

Though brave enough to have led McDonald's charge at 
\A'agram with unblanched face, he was sensitive as a woman ; 
he loved passionately music and works of real art ; though 
through all his youth his days were absorbed in a rough and 
tumble fight with and against an iron fortune, he was perfectly 
at home in the society of great men and accomplished women — 
the unpretentious manhood of the man shone out everywhere. 

Gifted pens have told of his achievements, but none have 
or can give any clear idea of the man as he was : the alert 
brain, the warm heart, the superb character that he bore ; the 
courage that no misfortune could daunt ; the soul so high that 
there was never room for one trace of false pride. 

His whole life was lined with unostentatious charities ; if 
every generous act of his life could be converted into a flower 
they would garland the mausoleum where he sleeps with a 
glory never seen around a death couch before ; if his impulses 
in life could have taken material form they would have fallen 
in benedictions upon every poor man's home, they would 
have steadied the hands of every high officer of our govern- 
ment, for love of his adopted country and solicitude for its wel- 
fare and glory were with him grand passions. 

Intense and strong as he was, after all his highest attri- 
bute was his affection for those he loved. He was never quite 
himself after the death by accident of his eldest son. As one 
after another of his old friends fell asleep, he grieved for them 
as for brothers dead. 

But he kept right on with his duties. He was always 
ready if summoned to his final account to say to the judgment 
angel, 'T began with nothing. I gained many millions, but I 
kept my hands clean; look at them in this clearer light and see 
if they carry one stain." 

The world has never seen a' manlier man than John \Y. 
Mackay. If good deeds count for so much as a feather, if 
they took form beyond this life and became his pillow, his 
final couch is softer than down, and his last sleep is curtained 
in everlasting peace. 



CLARENCE KING. 

WHEN I met Clarence King, he was most considerate, 
kind and companionable. There was not a trace of 
self-consciousness about him, but merely a <^enial 
recognition of a fellowman — the air of one who as men 
measure men — knowing that he was learned and gifted, never 
forgot that real men are men, and that brilliant accomplish- 
ments in this world are at best but a mastering of the alpha- 
bet of real learning — that the cxhaustlcss fields are beyond. 
There was a courtesy and refinement about Mr. King which to 
me seemed inborn, and which I never fully understood until I 
learned that when a baby of a year old his father died and that 
thereafter his gifted mother devoted her life to her boy's edu- 
cation and training. When I read that, I said to myself, "Why, 
of course it was the character of his mother shining out 
through the son." 

He was the same in a mining camp, in the private office 
of hard-headed financiers or at a reunion of college boys. His 
audience was always puzzled to quite analyze him. 

The truth was that he was a child of nature; the great 
mountains were more real company for him than either men or 
men-made books, though he was a scholar and loved his friends 
exceedingly. 

He was drawn from his New England home by reading a 
description of Mount Shasta, and never rested until he had 
found that majestic mountain and climbed it. Then at its 
base he found a stream of water which by its color he believed 
had come from a glacier, and when assured by the highest 
geological authority that there were no glaciers on Shasta, he 
still had his convictions, and after years of exploration he 
found the glaciers on the sullen mountain's flank. He had a 
memory that never left him in the lurch; he was so brave that 
he could perform feats that other men shuddered even to con- 
template ; he kept hi? heart always open to every cry for help; 
his knowledge was most profound, but to the last he was 



172 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

simple-hearted and eager to learn, and every phenomenon of 
nature was, when he found it, a joy to him. I can imagine him 
and John Muir walking side by side all day over Yosemite 
trails and hardly speaking, and then at night see them enthu- 
siastic over the great day they had enjoyed. 

He grew to be a great geologist on the west coast and was 
more and more absorbed in the study up to the day of his 
death. We say grew to be, because that exactly expresses the 
fact. In a suit between two warring mining companies in 
Eureka, Nevada, he gave his expert testimony. In another 
case some years later, where the same formation was a ques- 
tion Mr. King was called upon again and reversed his previous 
opinions. When his former testimony was shown him and he 
was asked to explain the discrepancies between his statements, 
he frankly admitted that his first testimony was delivered upon 
superficial knowledge, stating why he was deceived at first and 
how a new light had come to him. 

The air was filled with whispers of combines to defraud, 
bribery, double-dealing, perjury and all the sinister accompani- 
ments : but there was not a thought on either side that ex- 
pressed would have cast so much as a shadow on the stainless 
shield of Clarence King's integrity. He explored almost every 
defile, climbed to the summit of every western mountain 
and lifted the veil from every desert of the west, but we feel 
sure that only his over-mastering love of nature held him up to 
the work, for he was naturally refined and loved all refine- 
ments; he loved the society of the gifted, accomplished and 
learned : everything that was exquisite in art and literature : he 
loved, too, the comforts that come of richly furnished houses, 
delicate food, soft beds, rare books and pictures, trained 
service ; and the highest society held him as foremost guest. 

But with all these, I suspect he would periodically have 
broken away — he would have followed a cloud to mark the 
changes of color that the sunbeams might paint upon it, or 
would have followed the trail to some new mountain that he 
had news of, or would have run away to the seashore to 
interpret the voices of the waves as they came rolling in from 
far-off lands. 



LLARKXCE KIN(;. 173 

"I'he call of the wild" was ever ringing in his soul, lie 
climbed Lassen's Peak one day when the tog eight thousand 
feet deep had laid its mantle on the hills of Lassen. Shasta and 
Siskiyou counties, and all the Pitt River valley. It was just 
after the first fall of snow in the early winter, and seen that 
way a man's first impulse is to doff his hat as though in the 
])resence of Deity. 

When King reached the crest of Lassen's Peak — which is 
a sovereign mountain itself — there, eighty miles away, the six 
thousand feet above the bank of fog, stood Shasta, its. crest 
turned to |)urple and gold under the sunbeams, its sides white 
under the new fallen snow, and he cried out: "What would 
I\u--kin say could he see this?" 

Ruskin gave the world some glorified pictures of the Alps, 
but never had seen an inspiration such as that would have 
gi\en him. 

But we are not sure that King would not have achieved 
more fame had he chosen a purely literary career. Sir Walter 
Scott achieved immortality in weaving into simple stories, 
colorless without, the pictures of Scotland's mountains and the 
portrayals of Scotland's men and women, their looks and their 
deeds. 

What might not Mr. King have achieved had he chosen to 
])ortray the poetical side of the great west of America or of 
the fairest of foreign lands! 

Under his mother's care he wrote beautifully when but 
fifteen years of age. What might he not have done with his later 
knowledge and experience in the clearer light that had come 
to him? For he knew how the mountains had been framed; 
how the glaciers were started in their flow: the ages of the 
rocks; and had translated their heiroglyphics into written 
languages. However distracted he may ha\e been in other 
directions, he was always in accord with nature. Then his 
taste was so perfect, his wit so exquisite, his power of descrip- 
tion so unequaled ; his use of language so inimitable — for he 
never lacked the exact word needed — his observation so all- 
embracing that he never missed a detail — like a woman who at 
a glance can take in everv detail of a sister woman's attire as 



174 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

they pass on the street — what might he not have produced in 
a Hterary way? 

Then he could master a strange tongue in a month and 
so ah Hterature would have been at his command in its original 
form and expression. 

And he could in a moment ingratiate himself into any 
company, a band of cowboys in the west or an array of artists 
or scientists or writers in London or Paris, or had he been 
captured by cannibals, they would not have eaten him, but 
would have adopted him and within a week w^ould have ten- 
dered him his choice of their prettiest dusky maidens for a wife. 

And still, after a hard day's work, or an evening spent 
with artists, brilliant men and women, to rest himself so that 
he might sleep, he was prone to solve some abstruse problem 
in mathematics or clear up from his field notes some doubts 
as to rock formations. 

The service he performed for his country in his reports 
of his studies of the great west, are invaluable and the work 
performed in getting- together his data was something pro- 
digious. 

Still as a simple man was he greatest, the every-day man, 
manly everywhere, manly without a shade of false pride in 
his nature ; the man at home everywhere, the man who held 
all other honest men as good as himself; one who would have 
taken a friend from the gutter and nursed him back to health 
and hope, but would not have taken the hand of a Csesar had 
that CcTsar been unworthy — the centuries may not produce his 
fellow, so versatile was he, so all-encompassing was his mind, 
so royal his heart, so exalted his character. 

Those who knew him best loved him most, and when he 
died, beyond the passionate grief that followed him to the 
grave, was a vast regret that he had never given full expres- 
sion to the real height and depth of his nature, and that the 
world would never realize how altogether great and splendid 
a man he was, or how much the world lost when he died. 



JUDGE B. C. WHITMAN. 

SO FAR as I could ever see, there was not one flaw in the 
character of Judge Whitman. A gentleman, a gentle- 
man always : educated, refined, so exalted in his integrity 
that it was never questioned ; the most devoted father and hus- 
band ; the most considerate of the faults of others ; mingling 
with all that throng on the Comstock in the first wild days in 
perfect accord, and still making it absolutely clear that he had 
nothing in common with anything coarse or rude or unclean, 
he was to men what the Gulf stream is to the common waters 
of the sea. moving amid it with a current distinctly its own, 
fed by a different fountain, bound on a separate voyage, utterly 
unlike in temperature, and pursuing a different course. 

He was always genial and gentle; he loved his friends, 
loved to associate with his fellow men; he had an exquisite 
sense of humor, and still he always gave me the impression 
that he would have been perfectly at home in some great insti- 
tution where only high thoughts were permitted, only classic 
language spoken. 

He practiced law many years in Virginia City in those 
years when gladiators in the profession met in the arena and 
fought to the limit, and held his own there. 

No spoken nor mental reproaches ever followed Judge 
Whitman out of court. The thought was : "Whether right or 
wrong, he thinks he is right." 

When elected to the supreme bench, and he took his seat, 
it seemed to those who watched as though the seat had been 
long waiting for him. so natural was it to think of him as a 
judge. 

I do not think he was as profound a lawyer as Judge 
Mesick. or C. J. Hellyer or General Charles H. Williams, but 
he was great enough to have the perfect confidence of the 
whole bar. not only in his absolute integrity, but in his knowl- 
edge and his utter absence of prejudice. 

Outside of his profession he was a most valued citizen. 



176 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

He was a massive man physically and intellectually ; he had 
most pronounced opinions on all subjects relating to the gov- 
ernment and country; he could express them without offense 
and in a way to influence those who heard him. And so he 
moved, an example of high manhood and of exalted patriotism 
all his days. 

In those first days on the Comstock, when the clouds of 
the dreadful war gathered and broke in their fury, the bar of 
Virginia City was about equally divided between northern and 
southern men, and sectional differences between them were 
bitter in the extreme. 

These had been nursed during the five preceding years in 
California after the Democratic party had divided and the 
tattered renmants of the old Whig party had been picked up 
and woven into the Republican fabric. 

This had been greatly intensified by the death of Brod- 
erick and Ferguson in California; their friends declaring, in 
their sorrow and wrath, that they had been slain to get them out 
of the way, the friends of Terry and Penn Johnson insisting 
that both had acknowledged the code and that thev were fairly 
killed. 

For many months the dropping of a match would have 
kindled a civil war. Among these contending forces Judge 
\\'hitman moved with his life-long serenity, and though as 
fixed in his convictions as any of them, and as perfectly under- 
stood, his presence made for order and for law, not only 
among the men who were prominent, but among their respec- 
tive followers. It was natural, too, for to have assailed him 
would have been like knocking the scales from the hands of 
Justice or bespattering the white robes of Peace. 

The influence for good of such a man cannot be estimated. 
As the years move on he gains in his influence, and it is more 
difficult for men to do unmanly things when they meet such 
a man every day. 

When Judge Whitman left the supreme bench the Com- 
stock was going into temporary borasco, and he removed to 
San Francisco and resumed the practice of law there, which 
he pursued for a few years until one evening he went into one 



JUDGE B. L". W lilTMAX. 177 

of the gentlemen's clubs in the city and feeling drowsy laid 
down upon a lounge. Soon after he lost consciousness and a 
little later died. 

Tt is a welcome memory that when his call came it was 
without pain and that death to him was but passing from a 
troubled sleep into the sleep of everlasting peace. 

In life his was as nearly a perfect character as T ever met. 

Men can live calm lives in a cloister: if their lives are ab- 
solutely devoted to the service of God. many men can live 
blameless lives; but Judge Whitman assumed all a man's duties 
as husband, father, citizen, and fought for a place and name 
against all the sharp competitions necessary to forge out un- 
aided his way. and so did his work that there was not a stain 
'>n his character, not a reproach attaching to his high soul to 
tlie last. 

He was the highest possible type of man, and those who 
revered him most were those who understood him best: those 
who loved him best were those who had been closest to him in 
their relations. 

To his family he was at once a king and a guardian angel. 

He was in the sharp contests of business, and every night 
emerged from the fiery furnace as did the three — no smell of 
fire upon him. 



JAMES G. FAIR. 

ABOUT five feet eight inches in height, weighing, say 
210 pounds, massive every way; a sovereign head; a 
splendid face ; a soft voice ; a winsome personahty — a 
tiger satisfied in captivity and incHned to purr, and seldom "to 
unsheath from his cushioned feet his curving claws." A master 
mechanic who could do anything in iron and steel, a perfect 
judge of any kind of machinery; a brain in which everything 
was reduced to perfect order; one of the very shrewdest of 
financiers ; a mind that could reason from cause to effect with 
lightning-like rapidity and perfect certainty, and from early 
childhood more interested in the affairs of James G. Fair than 
of any other soul on earth. From childhood he knew, what so 
few men ever learn, the exact value of a dollar, and was strong 
enough when his fortune climbed into the millions, never to 
forget the unit and what it was worth. 

Early in California quartz veins had the greatest attrac- 
tion for him. If a vein assayed $7 per ton, and if <S0 per cent 
of the value could be saved, that meant $5.60. If that could 
be mined and reduced for $2 per ton there would be $3.60 
saved, and one hundred tons per day would mean a saving of 
$360. and that would be newly-created wealth. If 85 per cent 
could be extracted and the cost reduced 50 cents per ton, then 
the profit could be $4.45 per ton or $450 per day. How to 
perfect machinery to save a higher percentage from the assay 
value, and how to adjust machinery and labor to reduce the 
cost of working, were his studies for years in the Golden State. 
From it one can readily see how well prepared he was to wres- 
tle with the problems that the Comstock presented. I believe it 
is fair to say that the Wheeler grinding and amalgamating- 
pan was the most important adjunct in the working of Com- 
stock ores in the first twenty years in which those ores were 
worked. ■• Mr. Fair always claimed that every feature of the 
pan was his original idea. 

He went to the Comstock as a machinist, but in California 



JAMES G. FAIR. 179 

he had given much study to ore presentations and in a brief 
time he understood perfectly, both the formation of the great 
lode and its peculiarities, for all great mines have habits of 
their own. 

When the mining stock board was established in San 
Francisco, and the dealing in stocks became the great feature 
of that city, no one understood better than Mr. Fair its possi- 
bilities. In the meantime he had learned to know John W. 
Mackay well and both knew Flood and O'Brien in San Fran- 
cisco, and a combine was made. The San Francisco firm had 
some means and when from the Comstock word was sent to 
buy or sell stocks, or to buy on a margin or to sell short. Flood 
responded, and a good deal of money was made. They soon 
became a factor ; then they began to get control of certain of 
the mines; they made one diversion and lost $300,000 in a 
Silver City, Idaho, mine, and thereafter clung with more ten- 
acity to the great vein under Mount Davidson. By 1870 they 
had obtained control of the California and Con. Virginia, 
Best and Belcher, and Gould and Curry, all adjoining. Their 
hope was to explore the old workings of the California and 
Con. Virginia, believing that a good deal of money could be 
made from low-grade ores that had been left in the stopes, as 
the cost of reduction and transportation had been much re- 
duced. They worked with but indifferent success for six 
months, when one evening Mr. Fair met Captain McKay, who 
long had been in charge of the Gould and Curry, before the 
Bonanza firm obtained possession. Captain McKay was a fine 
geologist and scholar generally, besides being a perfect miner. 

McKay said to Fair : "Why do you not go to the bottom 
of the Gould and Curry shaft and drift north? The shaft is 
1 ,200 feet deep ; a tunnel north from it would be below all the 
workings of the Best and Belcher, the Con. Virginia and Cali- 
fornia : it would be in virgin ground, and if there are any deep 
ore bodies on the fissure, the outcrop of which was the surface 
ore bndv of the Mexican and Ophir, by tlie dip of the vein 
you ought to strike them." 

"T don't think there is anything in it," was Uncle Jimmie's 
reply, but that night three shifts of men were set to work at 



180 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

the bottom of the Curry shaft, (h"ifting north. It was all 
blasting rock ; when 1)roken the debris had to be run back 
to the Curry sliaft, hoisted 1.200 feet and run out on the 
dump. It rcfjuired a good deal of ncr\e and a great deal 
of money, but it was pushed out through the north end 
of the Curry, 1 50 feet, through the Best and Belcher 750 
feet and 150 feet into the south end of the Con. Virginia, 
when the great bonanza was struck about 30 feet below its 
apex. Had the shaft been only 1,100 instead of 1,200 feet 
deep, the drift would ha\e passed over it and it might have 
remained undiscovered still. 

AA'hen 1 left Virginia City it had yielded $119,000,000 and 
had paid in dividends $67,000,000. Of cour.se Uncle Jimmie 
made some millions from it, but it did not change him, rather 
it made him as the boys on the Comstock said, more so. The 
anecdotes of him were numberless. When the big bonanza was 
fully opened it was 400 feet wide in places and was laid off in 
great galleries by wide drifts like the streets of a city. 

It was intensely hot, and so the timbers — it required 
3,000,000 feet per month for several years — became as dry as 
tinder. A fire started in those depths would have made a 
volcano in an hour. 

Hence the strictest rules were enforced against every- 
thing that might start a fire. One rule forbade smoking. Uncle 
Jimmie went down in the mine one day, and going to one of 
the stopes thought he detected the odor of tobacco smoke. He 
said nothing, but went to other portions of the mine and in 
half an hour returned. Sinking down on the floor of the drift 
with a deep sigh he said, "I am surely growing old, a little run 
through the mine tires me more than a day's work used to. I 
think if I had a few ])uffs of a pipe it would refresh me 
greatly." A dozen pipes were presented in a moment. Uncle 
Jimnn'e took one, pufTed away for a moment, then with many 
thanks handed it back, saying that it had greatly revived him, 
and went to the surface. 

The next dav, going down Taylor street toward the mine, 
he met the whole shift of men going up the hill, "Why, how 
is this?" said he: 'T thouHit this was vour shift." 



JAMES G. FAIR. ISl 

One of them replied. 'AVe have been laid ofif." "Laid 
()\'\?" said Fair. "That is John (Mackay). I never get a 
crew of men ihal just suit nic. that John doesn't discharge 
them." And w ith a sigh he passed on. But the miners knew 
better and called him names as they climbed the hill. 

One (lav a gentleman from P>ostonwith his wife and young 
lady daughter called at the Con. Virginia ofiicc and the man 
asked if it was possible to visit the lower levels of the mine. The 
clerk called down to the lower shaft house, telling what was 
wanted. The reply came back to send the strangers down 
there at once. Idiey put ( )n the needed clothes and were shown 
to the cage. The man at the engine was told to stop at 16. 
When the ]:)arty left the cage a miner recei\ed tTiem and for 
an hour or more showed them 'round, explaining what was 
ore. what country rock, how ore was mined ; how big mines 
were timbered, all the time talking wisely of ore formations, 
the working and ventilation and drainage of mines : the pro- 
visions made for escape in case of a cave or a fire or other 
accident. 

The party was charmed with the sturdy miner who 
seemed so well informed and so affable. When they reached 
the cage and were about to be hoisted from the depth, the 
Boston man tendered the miner a bright new silver dollar. 
The miner thanked him but declined the gift, remarking that 
the company paid him for his time and it was easier to show 
-strangers around than to swing a pick. 

"P.ut," said the man. "this is for you personally." But 
still the miner declined, saying that what he had done was 
no trouble, but rather a pleasure. 

But the Boston man persisted and said : "Now, tell me 
honestly, my man. why you do not wish to take this dollar." 

The miner sighed and said: "\\'cll. one reason is that T 
have $600,000 up in the bank and it has been bothering me all 
the morning to decide how T had better invest it." 

Tt was Uncle Jimmie and he smiled softiv as the cage 
^hot up the shaft. 

A man and his wife in San Francisco filed the pai)ers in 
a suit against Mr. Mackay. claiming heavy damage for seek- 



182 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

ing to alienate the affections of the wife from her husband. 
It was a direct attempt at blackmail and Mackay never rested 
until he landed both the man and his wife in the penitentiary. 
But when the news of the filing of the suit reached Mackay 
in Virginia, he was furious. No one had ever seen him so 
angry before. He paced up and down the Con. -Virginia office 
like a tiger and the old lines would have fitted him: 

"We tore them limb from limb ; 
And the hungriest lion doubted 
'Ere he disputed with him." 

The woman's given name was Amelia. Uncle Jimmie 
went down to the office that morning, but seeing how the 
atmosphere was he softly went out and started across the foot- 
bridge for the Ophir works. On the bridge he met a young 
man and woman. The young woman stopped him and ex- 
plained that the young man was her brother; that he was a 
splendid worker, and that they both needed what he could earn 
and besought a place for him. Uncle Jimmie smiled down at 
her and said, "My dear! John tends to all that, go to the 
office. I just left him. Go and tell him what you have told 
me, and tell him your name is Amelia and I am sure he will 
give your brother a place!" 

Fortunately they did not get to see Mr. Mackay that 
morning. 

On one occasion Mr. Fair returned to Virginia after an 
absence of a couple of months when a blacksmith presented 
a bill for $80. Uncle Jimmie looked at it and said : "Eighty 
dollars. What might this be for?" 

The smith explained that it was for shoeing Mrs. Fair's 
carriage horses, setting the tires on the carriage and — but 
Uncle Jimmie interrupted him with : "That is all right, I was 
not disputing your bill, but I am superintendent of four mines, 
and the companies pay for all necessary work. Take the bill 
home and bring me back four bills, against the four companies, 
but not all quite alike. Make one for $22 to sundries against 
the Con. Virginia, one for say $18 against the California; one 
for $24 against the Curry and one for $16 against the Best 



JAMES G. FAIR. 1S3 

and Belcher, and T will try to get them allowed, though times 
are hard." 

He went to San Francisco in 1879. called at some offices 
on Montgomery street on business, and glancing around the 
offices, thought he would like them. He knew who owned the 
block and the agent in charge. He went to the agent and asked 
if the people in the corner rooms had a lease of the rooms. 
The agent replied that they merely paid from month to month. 
"And how much might they be paying?" asked Uncle Jimmie. 
The agent gave the figures. "W^ell," said Fair, "they would 
be worth $100 per month more to me. Please give them notice 
that you would like the rooms on the first of the month." 

The agent replied that he could not do it, that the firm 
occupying the rooms had been there two years, had paid the 
rent every month promptly and he could not order them out. 
"You are right." said Fair, "you are doing just as I would 
want you to. if you were my agent." 

Three days later he met the agent again and said to him, 
"You will kindly intV)rm the tenants in that block that they 
will have to vacate on the first, that the block has been sold." 
"Sold?" cried the astonished agent, "to whom?" 

"Oh," said Fair, "the owner wanted a little money more 
than he did the block and I exchanged with him, but you are 
still the agent, only after the first report to me please." 

In the sixties, ^ir. Fair, as he got up from the break- 
fast table one morning, said to his wife: "My dear, have you 
any money?" Mrs. Fair replied that she had $7,000 in the 
bank. By this time Uncle Jimmie had put on his hat, and 
said: "Don't mention the matter to a soul, but I think there 
are a few dollars in Curry," and went out. 

Mrs. Fair thought the matter over for a few minutes. 
Then she said to herself. "Surely there w^ould be no harm in 
letting my brother know." and crossed the street. Her brother 
was away, but his wife was home and Mrs. Fair told her. 

She had a brother and like Mrs. Fair, her thought was, 
that there would be no harm in telling her brother. By noon 
all Ireland in Virginia City was buying Curry and Uncle 
Jimmie was unloading it upon them. 



184 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

By the end of the week the stock had dropped out of sight 
and in tlie Fair house there was a thunder cloud in every room. 
As Uncle Jininiie rose from the hreakfast table he said to his 
wife : "My dear, did you not tell me that you had some money 
in the bank?" 

Here tlie storm broke. "I had $7,000 and it is all lost 
in that old Curry," said Mrs. Fair, and she burst into tears. 

"My, my, but I am sorry," said Fair then with a deep 
sigh, he went into his library and a moment later returned 
with a check for $7,000. Handing it to his wife he sighed 
again and said. "I will help you out this time, my dear, but I 
fear you are not constituted just right to successfully deal in 
stocks." 

AVhile he was absent Mrs. Fair one day told Mr. INIackay 
that if her husband could go to the United States Senate it 
would be a great thing for her children. 

That was enough. Mr. Mackay had the machinery all in 
order for his election when he returned, and he was elected. 
It w^as a great misfortune. There was no more happiness in 
the Fair family. 

While he was senator I went to him and explained that 
raw sulphur came into this country free, but there was a tariff 
of $20 per ton on refined sulphur; that 3 per cent sulphur in 
Sicily was being refined up to 97 per cent and then shipped in 
as raw sulphur free, which kept the nearly pure sulphur depos- 
its in Utah from the market, because of the cost of transporta- 
tion, and asked him to see the secretary of the treasury and 
have the duty applied to Sicilian sulphur. I had forgotten 
that he had extensive refining works in San Francisco, and 
that sulphur was an essential agent. 

When I had made my plea, he sighed and replied : "I 
will do everything I can for you, but I have three shiploads 
of that Sicilian sulphur on the sea right now." 

He continued to make a great deal of money up to his 
death, some fifteen years ago, and died very rich. 



ROLLIN M. DAGGE rr. 

NOT tall, about tive feet eight inches in height, swartliy, 
a remote strain of Iroquois in his veins, 1 think; heavy 
set. weighing clnse upon 200 pounds, a face full of 
merriment generally, but savage as a trapped bear when he was 
angry, a mind filled with all sorts of contrasts; a face and 
voice and handclasp filled with magnetism — his like we shall 
never look upon again. He was born somewhere in northern 
Xew York, and in youth learned the compositors' trade and 
obtained an academic schooling from the masters and the 
books; a deejier training from nature, for the mountains, the 
streams, the valleys, the forests were all open books to him, 
and wind, sunbeam and storm all brought messages to him. 

He went with the first argonauts to California, started 
with nothing but a rifle, a blanket and a little knapsack con- 
taining his tooth-brush, his other shirt and a few indispensable 
trinkets. He was a natural writer, an editor whose judgment 
never erred. At first he engaged in placer mining and made 
a stake, then he went to San Francisco and started the Golden 
Era. a literary paper, the merits of which still linger in the 
minds of the few old Californians left on this side of the 
Great Divide. 

Whoever may have retained a file of that paper \x'\\\ by 
running over it now. realize anew how strong was his pen; 
how every impulse of his soul found expression in those col- 
umns. Late in the fifties he disposed of the paper and early 
went to the Comstock and became associate editor with J. T. 
Goodman on Mr. Goodman's Territorial Enterprise. Dan 
DeQuille was already on the paper. That made three strong 
men on the editorial staff which a little later was reinforced 
by ^Tark Twain. The Enterprise was a great newspaper in 
those days ; indeed, there was not a more brilliant journal any- 
where. It had to be. for at that time there were more brillianl; 
men in Virginia City than were ever seen in a town of that 
size before. 

IS 



186 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

On the Enterprise I got to know Daggett as well as any 
one ever did, for there are not many secrets in an editorial 
room between men who are in close rapport every day. Dag- 
gett at that time had been a journalist for twenty-five years, 
and had grown a little lazy intellectually, but age had not 
withered him nor custom staled his infinite variety or his infi- 
nite humor. He was not witty, but the drollest genius in the 
world, and he had a way of mixing adjectives, never heard 
before in conversation, and when a joks was perpetrated at his 
expense, he would laugh until the tears ran down his cheeks. 

I recall that one night when there was a company of gen- 
tlemen in our main working editorial room, he looked over 
at me and asked me which syllable in some word ought to be 
accented. I gave him my idea, whereupon he reached o\er, 
took the big dictionary with both hands, lifting it in front of 
him — he loved to make a dramatic display — and most impres- 
sively said : "I will see for myself. I would rather be right 
than be President." I said gently to him: "We all feel that 
way about you, Mr. Daggett.'' Whereupon he sprang up, 
went to each gentleman in the room and asked for a gun, and 
beseeching from all an opinion as to whether instant murder 
would not be justified, under a provocation of that kind. 

Elderly people will remember that when after the war as 
the Southern States were restored to the Union, in some of 
them rather tough legislatures were elected; that in those 
days General Sheridan had command of the Department of 
the South and was stationed at New Orleans. 

That one day he sent a dispatch to Washington declaring 
that the legislature of Louisiana was made up of banditti and 
asked for authority to dissolve it. The dispatch caused a tre- 
mendous excitement. Democratic legislatures all over the 
country, and Democratic newspapers from Maine to Cali- 
fornia were fierce in their anathemas. At that time a gentle- 
man, whom we will call Snyder — only that was not his name — 
was running an evening Democratic paper in Virginia City. 
When the dispatch reached him he was furious and in an im- 
passioned editorial demanded a new rebellion, if that kind of 
work was to be continued. 



ROLLLX Al. DAGGETT. 187 

It was a cold winter night, and Daggett did not show up 
until 11 o'clock. He waddled to his table and sat down, ad- 
mitting that he had on board a large and assorted cargo of 
gin. 

I linished my work about midnight and getting up pro- 
posed that we go out and get some hot oysters. He repHcd 
by holding up some manuscript and requesting me to read it. 
I did and said : "Oh, Daggett, do not publish this 1 We are 
good friends with Snyder; let it go; his article will do no 
harm." 

Then Daggett took on his savage look and replied : "No, 
sir. That other rebellion cost 4,000 millions of dollars and 
400,000 lives. I am going to squelch Snyder's right now." 

"But," I said, "if you publish this, Snyder will get his 
gun in the morning and fill you full of buckshot when you go 
on the street." 

With a cunning look he said: "Do you think so?" 

"Of course," I answered. Then he said : "I will fix that, 
I will get up early in the morning and go down and tell him 
it was you." 

As nearly as I can recall, from an imperfect memory, the 
article began with these words : 

"Mr. Snyder paid his respects to Lieutenant General 
Sheridan in his last evening's Chronicle. 

"It was good of him to thus remember an old companion 
in arms. 

"Roth were in the service. When Sheridan was plan- 
ning a raid on the Shenandoah valley, Snyder was planning 
a raid on a government safe. 

"Both succeeded. Sheridan cleaned out the valley, Snyder 
cleaned out the safe." 

There was more of it, but the above is sufficient to show 
his style. 

The article appeared in the next morning's paper. I saw 
no more of Daggett until after dinner the next evening, when 
he and Snyder came in, each a little mellow. They had been 
dining together. He was filled with contradiction. 

He went out on the divide, four miles north of Virginia 



188 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

City, one day, to attend a prize fight, and acted as one of the 
judges. He returned in the evening and wrote a scathing arti- 
cle, picturing the shame of prize fighting and its demorahzing 
tendencies, and denouncing the county officers for permitting 
such things. It was our habit in the Enterprise office to read 
each other's proof. I read his article, then turning to Dag- 
gett, said : 

"Old man, you remind me a little of Saul before he 
became Paul." 

"How is that?" he asked. 

"You must have seen a great light as you were coming in 
from the divide today," I said. 

"You lack experience," he said. "When you become 
wiser — I should hate to wait for the time — you will learn 
that there come times in men's lives when it is duty to assume a 
virtue, though they have it not." 

In some way he awakened the ire of a brother editor in 
an outside town of the state, and the editor came back at 
him in an article which was fierce in its savagery. 

He was asked if he was going to reply to it. His response 
was : "Answer that? Would you hunt snipe with a howitzer?" 

He and I were quietly at work one afternoon when a man 
came in unannounced, walked straight to him, and presenting a 
folded Enterprise, said: "Daggett, that is a shame. My cows 
are as well fed as any man's, and the milk I sell is rich and 
sweet." 

Daggett took the paper, looked at the heading : "Swill 
Milk," swiftly glanced it over and knew that one of the re- 
porters had been writing up the man's dairy in not very com- 
plimentar}^ terms. Turning upon the man an indignant face, 
he said : "You are a pretty fellow to come to me. I was down 
by your corral night before last ;" — he had not been there in 
three years ; — "as I walked along the high-board fence I heard 
your cows gnawing bones, and when I turned the corner thev 
looked up at me and growled like dogs." The man dropped 

his hands, exclaiming: "Well, bv !" turned and left the 

office." 

"Tliat was all on the square. I suppose?" I said. 



ROLLIX M. DAGGl-n'T. 189 

"That was necessary," was his response. "That son of 
a gun will not bother us again for eighteen months." 

Daggett met Mr. Sharon one morning, who said to him: 
"Come and have breakfast with me!" On his announcing 
that he had just come from breakfast. Sharon said : "Come 
along. I want to talk with you a few minutes." 

Sharon ordered a quail on toast and in his dainty way 
commenced eating, when Daggett bade the waiter bring him a 
plate of ham and eggs. When served he began eating in his 
usual hearty manner. "I thought you said you had break- 
fasted." said Sharon. "I had. but the way you eat made me 
hungr}'." was the reply. 

"Heavens. I would give half my fortune for your appe- 
tite." was Sharon's comment. "Yes." said Daggett, "and the 
other half for my character and lofty bearing. You see I am 
richer than you." He had no more form than a sack of 
apples and his character, from a Christian standpoint, was a 
good deal shop- worn in spots. 

General Thomas H. Williams was one of Virginia City's 
great lawyers. He carried through successfully a difificult law 
suit, and his client gave him a small fee and 1,800 shares of 
Con. Virginia stock. Williams tried to sell it, but the mine 
was in borasco then and on the stock board was rated at only a 
few cents a share. But after a while whispers began to be cir- 
culated that there was something in Con. Virginia, and the stock 
began to rise. Then the shares were multiplied by five: bu; 
thev continued to creep up, then to jump, then to soar, and 
Williams woke up one morning to find himself worth $12.- 
(^00.000. It was not long until it began to be told that General 
Williams was a candidate for the United States Senate. 

Hearing of this Daggett wrote and published an articL 
giving some data in \\'illiams' record, calculated to depres'^ 
Mr. Williams' hopes of success. The general met him next 
morning and trembling with anger, through white lips de- 
manded to know his authority for what he had said. 

Daggett named a not very brilliant lawxcr who was a half 
pensioner on Williams. Williams bowed and walked on. .\n 
h'>ur later the man named burst into the editorial rooms and 



190 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

demanded in almost uncontrollable anger whether Daggett had 
given him as authority for the infamous article on General 
Williams. 

Daggett turned in his chair, seemed to be thinking for 
an instant and then said: "I believe I did." 

"Well, on what grounds?" was the next demand. 

"It was this way," said Daggett : "Williams came on me 
sudden-like, and you were the first son of a gun that came 
into my mind." 

One night Daggett and another engaged in a friendly 
game of seven-up in the Washoe club. They continued to 
play until 11 p. m., having beer between the games. A 
final game was proposed to decide which should settle the 
score for the evening. The friend agreed to this and the 
game proceeded until Daggett had won six points and the 
friend had but two. It was Daggett's deal, and he ga\-e the 
friend a queen and seven of trumps. The friend begged. 
Daggett, who had no trump but a jack, gave him one. Then 
the friend led the queen and caught Daggett's jack, made high, 
low, jack, gift and the game and went out. 

A friend who was watching the game turned away with a 
laugh and left the club. 

In his softest, pleasantest voice, Daggett said : "D , 

do you know why Quinby went out?" 

"It is getting late," was the reply. "I suppose he has 
gone home." 

"Oh, no," said Daggett, and his voice was like a caress. 
"He has gone out into the hall, just to say to himself that a 
man who would beg on a queen and a seven"- — here his voice 
quickly took on the growl of an angry bear — "is a blankety, 
blankety holdup who, had he but the courage, would rob a 
stage." 

When the Custer massacre was wired, I met Daggett on 
the street and told him. The savage in him came out like 
smallpox. No word of sympathy for the command, but admira- 
tion for the Sioux. With eyes ablaze he said : "Big fellows, 
Roman noses, fighters. I am proud of them." 

Daggett had a beautiful wife and two little girls. \A'hen 



ROLLIX M. DAGGETT. 191 

I first knew them the children were three ami four and 
one-half years old respectively. In his home they would hoth* 
sei;<e him ; he would fall to the floor declaring they had thrown 
him di>\\n. They would pile cushions and rugs upon him, 
shrieking with glee, while he, looking like a half-buried hippo- 
potamus, with awful imprecations would threaten to fall upon 
them and make wafers of them in just two minutes more. 

If he ever took an old lady by the hand and told her how- 
much he was honored in meeting her, she was hypnotized for 
life. And when he tried, how he could handle English! Listen 
to those opening lines of his memorial poem in the centennial 
year: 

''With leaf and blossom spring has come agani. 
And tardy Summer, garlanded with flowers. 
Trips down the hillside like a wayward child. 
Her garments fringed with frost ; but in her smile 
The valleys turn to green, and tender flowers. 
\\'oke from their slumber by the song of birds. 
Reach up to kiss the dimpled mouth of May. 

"With feet unsandalcd and with solemn step. 
Treading the path that marks the centuries. 
We come to lay on valor's silent bed 
The fragrant ofiferings of our hearts and hands." 

After Daggett's term in Congress expired, he served two 
or three years as minister to Hawaii. Then he returned to 
California, and about nine years ago he was stricken witli 
hemorrhage of the brain and died the same day. 

There never was but one R. y\. Daggett in all this world. 



PROFESSOR FRANK STEWART. 

PROFESSOR STEWART was one of the extraordinary 
men of the west. He was tall and slim and angular; 
he might have passed for a twin brother of Abraham 
Lincoln, though he had a handsomer face than the man of 
men of his generation. He was Indiana born and could not 
have received very much schooling, for at eighteen he volun- 
teered in Joe Lane's Indiana regiment and went to the Mexican 
war. He fought through all that long day at Buena Vista, 
and could describe it in much more graphic phrases than any 
historian ever has. 

He was one of the original California Argonauts. If he 
was not deeply schooled in his youth, he made up for it by 
incessant study ; he was not a miner, but a wonderful geologist, 
botanist and all around scientist. He was familiar with the 
classics, wrote some fine short poems, but his joy was to grasp 
an abstruse scientific problem and never rest until it was 
solved. He would rather, from the shells and rocks, calculate 
the age of the earth than to attend a banquet. He joined 
\A'a1ker's expedition to capture Nicaragua, his reasoning being 
that it would be a mercy to the people of that country to give 
them a stable government. They conquered the country, but 
because of Walker's utter incapacity and unfairness, his com- 
mand broke up into fragments ; Walker, with a few followers, 
was captured and shot, and Stewart made his way on foot to 
San Juan, Costa Rica, from there reached the coast and in 
some way caught a vessel and returned to California. 

He was editing a newspaper at Placerville, Cal., when one 
day "Snow Shoe" Thompson, who carried the mails on snow 
shoes over the Sierras between Placerville and Genoa, Nevada, 
showed him a sample of rock and asked him what it was, ex- 
plaining that it clogged the sluices and bothered the placer 
miners in Gold canyon. 

Stewart told him that he did not know, but that it looked 
as though it might be black sulphide of silver as described in 



PROFESSUR IRAXK Sli:\\ ART. 193 

the books, and advised him to have it assayed when he reached 
Sacramento. Thompson did so. with astomiding results. The 
return was nearly $1,000 per ton in gold and over .'?1.200 in 
silver. It has never been clear which assay was made hr.-t, the 
one in Sacramento or the one in Nevada City. Rut they were 
nearly at the same time. 

Stewart went early to the Comstock. Mount Davidson 
rises 2,000 feet high just west of the Comstock lode. At first 
the pitch of the vein was to the west. Pr jfessor Sillimrm being 
early called to Virginia City to give expert testimony as to the 
great lode, predicted that the heart of the Comstock wouVl he 
found under }^Iount Davidson. This was published in Silli- 
man's testimony. Stewart read it, and with a laugh said if 
that was true then God Almighty had made a mistake. ;md had 
l^laced the gangue on the wrong wall. 

WHien explored a little below two hundred feet, the vein 
suddenly quit. It did not pinch out — it just stopped. Short 
drifts were run east from the bottoms of the shafts, then 
from tlie east ends of the drifts shallow winzes were sunk and 
lo. there was the ledge found, pitching east. Now the hoisting 
works are a third of a mile down the mountain to the east. Bv 
some upheaval the crest of the ledge had been pushed back and 
broken off so that its natural pitch to the east was reversed 
near the surface and turned to the west. It deceived Silliman 
Imt did not Stewart. 

Stewart explored all the camps of Nevada. His old 
reports on Tuscarora. though discounted at the time, have been 
vindicated by the pick, drill and dynamite. 

In early days he gave a series of lectures in California and 
received the sobriquet of "Earthquake" Stewart, because of 
the theory that he put out, that the tremblors in California 
were caused, not by displacements below the surface of the 
earth, but because of electrical disturbances in the air and in 
the earth near the surface, and predicted that when railroad 
tracks and telegraph wdres were stretched across the continent, 
connecting the eastern and far western states, these disturb- 
ances would in a measure be neutralized, that the tremblors 
woulfl grow less and less severe, but that there would be trc- 



194 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

mendous electrical storms in the Missouri and Mississippi 
valleys. 

For like reasons he insisted that California was not a good 
state for children to grow up in; that they would be high- 
strung, with abnormal, nervous temperaments, and that like 
too early ripened apples, would never reach entire excellence. 

He was the kindest-hearted of men, but became impatient 
in a moment if anything like a question of his geological con- 
clusions was asked. 

After he had spent a month in Tuscarora, he returned to 
Virginia City, and calling at the Enterprise, was enthusiastic 
over the new camp. 

A gentleman from New York had brought letters to me 
and we were conversing when the professor came in. He at 
once plunged into a description of the camp, and after talking 
a few moments he suddenly stopped with the remark: '1 will 
show you just how it is." Then he went to a table, sat down, 
picked up a pencil and was busy for several minutes making a 
sketch. When he had finished it he brought it back, explain- 
ing how each mine, thus far, had been located, and then gave 
the course of the vein as he had traced it from the formation, 
explaining what mines would be liable to have ore bodies and 
which would not. His description lasted perhaps fifteen min- 
utes, and then the New Yorker said gently enough, "This is 
your theory. Professor." 

"There is no theory about it. That is the way God Al- 
mightv made it," said Stewart, savagely, and rolling up his 
sketch, left the office without another word. 

When any new specimen of rock or shell was shown him, 
he had a fashion of studying it, sometimes for fifteen or twenty 
minutes, until he got it classified in his own mind, and then he 
would explain what it was, to what age it belonged and all 
about it. 

He seldom drank any strong liquor, but about once in a 
year or two he would drink for a day or two. After a long- 
absence on a hard trip to some mines he got into Elko one 
afternoon. At that time there was a district judge in Elko 
who drank a eood deal too much. Meeting Stewart, thev 



PROFESSOR FRAXK STEWART. 195 

drank together, then drank again, and as the night came down 
thev were both how-came-you-so. seated at a table in the bar 
room of the hotel, unconscious that forty or fifty men were 
looking on and listening The more Stewart drank the brighter 
lie seemed to grow, while the more his companion drank the 
stupider he became. At last Stewart began to describe that 
(lay at Buena Vista; how General Wool, early in the morning, 
in splendid uniform, great epaulettes and a plumed hat. rode 
along the lines, crying to the men that it was Washington's 
birthday and American soldiers could never be whipped on 
Washington's birthday: how the battle opened; how early Jeff 
Davis, with his Mississippi regiment of riflemen, without a 
bayonet in the regiment, stopped 4,000 Mexican lancers in full 
charge ; stopped them and rolled them back, covering the plain 
with dead men and horses ; how then the fight centered around 
the regiments of Hardin. McGee and Clay, and all three were 
killed ; then the storm broke over Lincoln and his regulars 
and Lincoln was killed, and wdien Bragg sent back for rein- 
forcements and there being none to send him. General Taylor 
in person, on his white horse, rode to him and gave the famous 
order : "A little more grape, Captain Bragg." But this was 
but preliminary to his description of the prodigies which Joe 
Lane with his Indiana regiment performed, w'hen suddenly 
Stewart's friend, the judge, roused up and said: "Professor. 
were you in that Indiana regiment that ran like blazes from 
that fight?" 

Stewart stopped talking, looked across the table for quite 
two minutes at the judge and then broke out with : 'T can't 
classify you. sir. I don't know whether \-i»u are a fool, sir, or 
a son of a she wolf." 

The listeners shouted with laughter. Stewart looked 
around at them. then, rising hastily, said : "I think it is an hour 
after the time when T should have been in bed." and hastilv 
left the room. 

He came into my office one morning with a joyous l(^ok 
on his face, and laid a specimen on my desk, saying: "What 
do you think that is?" I said: "It looks like a piece of brick 
that was too much l)urned in the kiln." 



196 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

"Not much," he said; " , the great traveler, just 

gave it to me. It is a part of a brick which he picked up from 
the ruins of the Tower of Babel. It proves what I have always 
said. You know the Bible says a fire came down from heaven 
and destroyed that tower. It was just an old-fashioned tre- 
mendous electric storm — a cyclone and thunder storm com- 
bined, and the lightning vitrified that brick." 

He was a Democrat, and with his breeding he never liked 
New England, always expressing the belief that except for 
PhiUips, Garrison, Sumner, Mrs. Stowe and the others there 
would never have been any secession or war. But in the 
eighties some croppings were found in Maine which, being- 
assayed, showed fair values in silver. A Boston company was 
organized to develop the property. But an expert's opinion 
was wanted, and one of the directors wrote to one of the great 
mining companies on the Comstock to send them a man both 
practical and scientific. Stewart was sent. He was engaged 
as consulting engineer, which held him in Boston most of the 
time, only making occasional visits to the property. After 
three months he wrote me : "Do not waste your life any longer 
in the west! Come here! I never knew what a whole com- 
munity of gentlemen meant until I came to Boston." 

From Boston he received a call to examine a mine in West 
Virginia. He returned with a fearful cold, which soon devel- 
oped into pneumonia, and he died three days later. 

Poor Stewart; he was altogether a most gifted, manly 
man. 



GOVERNOR LUTHER R. BRADLEY. 

IT TS with a feeling of deep sorrow that I recall the mem- 
ory of (jovernor Bradley, for he was long my friend; 
but there came a time when it was my duty to intlict up(jn 
him perhaps the greatest disappointment of his life. 

He was an early comer to California, one of the Argo- 
nauts. I believe. He settled near Stockton in that state. He 
was from Virginia, unlettered, spoke in the dialect of the poor 
whites and negroes of that state, w^as intensely pro-southern, 
and w'ent to Stockton just when Judge Terry. Dr. Ainsley 
and the full band of fire-eaters centered there and controlled 
things politically, sometimes in a most partisan and arrogant 
manner. Governor Bradley was in full sympathy with them. He 
was not more than five feet seven or eight inches in height, but 
stockily built, and must have weighed 200 pounds. I never 
knew him until he reached Nevada. Ever after that he wore 
\crv long, full whiskers. It was said that when the news of 
the election of Mr. Lincoln to the Presidency was confirmed, 
he declared that he would never have his hair cut nor beard 
shaved until the people got some sense and elected a Democrat 
President. The truth of this I cannot affirm, but think it very 
liable to be true. He came to Nevada, I think, in 1860. driving 
over a small band of cattle. He located near wdiere Austin 
now is. 

At that time Nevada was covered with bunch grass, which 
is most nutritious. Cattle pastured upon it in the autumn, 
when the seed ripens, would in three months, from half skele- 
tons take on full flesh, and the meat be equal to or better than 
the best stall fed beef, for the seed was really grain and 
the very finest f|uality for beef. There w-as a series of mild 
winters after I860; the governor's herds swn'ftly increased and 
he became a real cattle king. Tn the early seventies. T asked 
him once if he ever made any provisions for protecting and 
feeding his cattle in the winter, and reminded him of the legend 
that bufi^alo were ])]cnty in the dreat Basin until the fierce 



198 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

winter of 1838, which killed them all. He replied that he 
only brought a small band of cattle to Nevada and just let them 
rustle, and he had done reasonably well. He added : "There 
is a good deal in educating a critter He is like a man. If he 
knows his living depends on his rustling, he will rustle." In 
1870 the Democrats, looking around for a candidate for gov- 
ernor, determined to nominate Bradley. 

The Comstock had been in borasco for several years until 
1869. Mr. Sharon had held things together, and made the 
great discoveries in the Belcher and Crown Point possible. 
Not one man in a thousand comprehended the work he had 
performed, but he was called king. Sutro was filling the air 
of the whole state with his complainings against Sharon and 
the bank ring, and when the Republicans nominated F. A. 
Tritte, a broker in Virginia City and friend of Mr. Sharon, 
though he was one of the most splendid men that ever lived in 
Nevada, the Democrats with "Old Broadhorns," as they called 
him, and a cry for an honest government, easily elected their 
candidate. 

He had not the first qualification for the place; no clear 
knowledge of the duties of the ofiice, nor of the needs of the 
state, but he was a kindly old man and had a streak of native 
strategy about him which was in truth the most catching kind 
of politics. A couple of samples of this will make it clear. 

Crossing the street in Carson one day, a man in a lumber 
wagon, with his wife and child with him, drove past, and, see- 
ing the Governor, stopped his team, and accosted him with, 
"Excuse me. Governor, but me and my wife wanted to speak 
to you and tell you that we and all the neighbors up in Douglas 
county were glad that you were elected, and to wish you well." 

The Governor stepped up to the wagon, shook hands with 
both, told them he had been hoping that he and his neighbors 
would come to Carson, that he wanted to see them all, and all 
the time was patting the child's head. They drove away with 
radiant faces, when the Governor turned to a friend and asked, 
"Who be they?" 

The friend replied, "Why, that is : they live in 

Douglas countv." 



GOXERXUR LUT1I1-:R R. I51>^AULEV. \9'J 

"And whar be Doiiolas county?" asked his excellency. 

On another occasion, as the Governor went out from his 
executive chambers one morning, he noticed that the janitor 
was removing- the desks from the assembly chamber. Going to 
him. the Governor asked: "What's yer doin'. Jake?'" The 
janitor explained that the Knights of Pythias from all over the 
state had been in convention in Carson for two days, that they 
were going to have a ball in the assembly hall that night and 
he was preparing the room for them. 

"Knights of Pythias," said the Governor, "who be they?" 
The janitor replied: "Why, Governor, it is an order like the 
Masons or Odd Fellows ; have you not noticed them here for a 
couple of days wearing sashes and swords?" 

"O them fellows." said the Governor ; "why they'll get 
drunk and muss evervthing up. I wouldn't let 'em have the 
hall. Take." 

At that moment one of the Knights came in, the scabbard 
of his sword clanking on the marble floor at every step. 

The Governor turned to him, right in the presence of the 
janitor and said cheeri!}- : "\\'ell. my son, are you going to 
have a good time tonight?" 

"I hope so. Governor," was the reply. 

Then the Governor, with a smile, said : "I heeard you 
was going to have a party and I war so anxious that every- 
thing would be pleasant for you. T war out superintending 
Take's work myself." 

Could anyone beat that? TTe was re-elected governor 
in 11^74. P.y 1876 the bonanza wa:^ in full blast and the Com- 
st')ck was soaring as never before. 

When the Legislature met in January, 1877, the Gover- 
nor, listening to some not very level-headed advisers, recom- 
mended in his message a mighty tax on bullion, and further, 
that all incorporations should be taxed for the full amount of 
shares in their capital stock at par. 

That meant that if the owners of a prospect incorporated 
with say 150,000 shares of the value of one dollar per share, 
m hoj)e of selling a few shares, sa ■ at 10 cents per share in 
order to help develop the prospect, the incorporation should be 



200 AS I REAIEAIBER THEM. 

assessed for the full $150,000 named in their incorporation 
papers. 

V\'hen the time for nominations drew near in 1878, I 
begged the Democrats, through the Enterlrise, not to try to 
run the governor for a third term ; explaining that the Repub- 
lican press of the state had always been most considerate of 
the governor because of his age and kindly ways, but it would 
be necessary to defeat him if he was a candidate again, and 
that one result would be to sunder old ties of friendship which 
it would be sweet to keep. 

The Democrats met in state convention two days later 
and nominated the old man by acclamation. 

Of course the fight was on at once. I do not think there 
was e\'er any other such political fight (»n this coast. It did 
not relax, but rather grew hotter and hotter every day for 
two months, and the old man went down under the storm. 

But he got even in a little way. Four years before. I had 
called upon a friend in Sacramento. In a paddock near his 
house he had a mare and a baby colt perhaps three months old. 
It seemed a wonderful colt, and I asked the friend what he 
would take to keep him and break him and send him to me 
when the colt was four years old. He named a price and 
I paid him. Just before election, when the campaign was at its 
height, the friend sent me the colt. He was a wonder, one 
of the most beautiful horses ever seen in the west. The stable 
boys were hitching him to a sulky one day when Governor 
Bradley passed. He looked into the barn, saw the horse, 
entered and walked around him several times exclaiming, 
'What a beauty! What a beauty!" naming his regal points in 
a kind of ecstasy. Finally he asked who owned the animal. 
\\nien told, he said: "That thar feller in the Enterprise f" 

AMien answered yes, he turned abruptly, and saying : 
"That there colt looks ter have a heap more sense than his 
owner," left the barn. 

The following winter was a most severe one, and 20,000 
head of the governor's cattle perished. 

His disappointments, his financial losses and his great age 
were too much for him, and a few months later he died. 



GOVERXOR lA'THKR R. i'.RADLl'.V. 201 

lie (lied thinking 1 was his enemy and never knew that 
there never was a moment when persijnaUy i would not have 
gladly gone out of my way to serve him in any manner possi- 
l)lc. and lie never couUl understand wh\" the best interests of 
Xcvada made it necessar\- to defeat his third election. 

If any reader thinks the pers(^nal pronoun is too much in 
evidence in this. I hope he will believe that it is but to make 
clear to the many friends of the Governor who are still alive 
that sometimes an honest newspaper has to present things in 
such a light as makes everyone connected with it wish that he 
could avoid the duty. 

Governor Bradley was a kindly, generous man in life, lie 
was. too. shrewd and cunning in many ways, a typical fron- 
tiersman, and the hope of all who knew him is that in the 
beyond in the clearer light, he will see the hearts of men as 
they really are. and be able to understand all that was hidden 
from his darkened eves here. 



14 



ALVINZA HAYWARD. 

ALVINZA HAYWARD lived about the most even life 
of any of the famous men who won and lost on the 
Comstock. He was an Argonaut. When he looked 
first upon the Golden state he was six feet in height, strong 
and brave, and looked like one who had come to conquer. From 
the first his thought seemed to be that the legitimate work of 
a man in California was mining; that everything else was 
secondary employment. He made some money in the placers 
in Amador county, but the great mother lode ran by his door, 
and he was irrestibly attracted to it. He had assays made 
from it, and though he knew nothing about quartz mining, or 
the reduction of gold ores, he knew that the simplest form was 
to crush ores by stamps, then to wash the pulp, and if the ores 
were free a fair proportion of the gold could be saved. 

So he crushed some pounds of the ores in a common mor- 
tar and then washed the fine pulp in a pan. In that way, by 
comparing what he could save from twenty pounds of rock, 
with the assays of 2,000 pounds, he could estimate what per- 
centage of the ore in a ton could be obtained in a mill. In 
that way he found that the ore was "free milling;" that is, it 
was not held in combination with some other metal that would 
carry it away with the pulp, as it was run over a quicksilvered 
plate. Then he had a crude mill built and found that he could 
make money much faster than in the placers, and so in the early 
fifties had accumulated what was then a great fortune and a 
high name among the business men of California. He really 
was working a mother lode bonanza. 

Then he devoted much of his fortune to many different 
enterprises. He was an original stockholder in the California 
bank. 

He was intimate with Ralston, Mills, and the others of the 
bank ; when Gorham and Jones ran for governor and lieutenant 
governor, he formed a great attachment for J- P- Jones — as 
almost any man would, for there was never but one J. P. 



ALVINZA IIAVWARD. 203 

Tones — and \vc suspect that he advised Jones to go to Nevada, 
and helped get him the place of superintendent of the Crown 
Point mine in which Ilayward was a heavy stockholder. 

In the mines in Amador, Mr. Ilayward was always 
dressed as a miner with gray shirt, overalls and miners' boots: 
in San Francisco he was always attired like a gentleman of 
leisure and finely groomed, and altogether an attractive-look- 
ing man of affairs. He was indeed a real captain of industry. 

As the Crown Point progressed under the management 
<>t Jones, Hay ward stood behind him, he being the controlling 
stockholder, and as the indications pointed to a bonanza sure, 
bought more and more of the stock until when in a very few 
months the stock jumped from 50 cents a share to $1,800, both 
men became several times millionaires. That bonanza gave 
up, if we remember rightly, something over $33,000,000. 

When Mr. Hayward began to grow rich in Amador, he 
started to help his fellow miners when they were in trouble. 
The amount of these loans, which were generally gifts, only the 
books in the Beyond can ever reveal. Certainly Alvinza Hay- 
ward never knew the sum. 

This he kept up all his life, one result of which w-as that 
he had mining interests in many places. 

In a certain district in Placer county, ''drift diggings" 
were found. In the immemorial past a river had threaded its 
way through that region. 

By some mighty convulsion of nature this river was cov- 
ered deep by overturned mountains. Its source was turned in 
some other direction and the ancient bed of the river was 
buried. 

In a few places, through the erosion of the years, the 
mountains covering the dead river had been worn down, leav- 
ing exposed small portions of its bed. 

This bed was often several feet deep in gravel which was 
rich in gold and when the bed rock was reached it was often 
fabulously rich. 

\Mien found the only way to work this was bv drifting 
up stream — for it was filled with water — running the gravel 
out on cars and washincf it outside. 



204 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Mr. Hayward had some interests in the camp, but another 
man had an extremely rich section of the old stream and in a 
few months took from it $1,500,000. 

Then he went east on a visit. In New York City, at the 
home of a relative, he met a beautiful and most brilliant young- 
lady who was poor and was earning her living by teaching. 

She had quarreled with her sweetheart the very day before 
she met this miner who had just made $1,500,000. He was 
carried away at the first sight of the lovely girl and in two 
weeks sailed from New York for California with her for a 
bride. 

Reaching San Francisco, her husband offered to buy her 
any home that she might select, but she told him it was a con- 
tract for life, that while he remained a miner she intended ti) 
be a miner's wife, so she went with him to their wild camp in 
the high Sierras and remained there three years. There she 
sometimes met Mr. Hayward. 

Afterwards they went to Auburn, built a fine home and 
remained there until the husband died. 

In addition to the first stake of $1,500,000, the man took 
another million from the old river bed ; but he knew nothing 
about business ; he invested his money in a hundred schemes, 
and when he died his wife found that there was nothing left 
but the home and the "remnants" of the old mine. She went 
back to the old camp and looked it carefully over and then went 
to find Mr. Hayward in San Francisco. She called upon him 
and told him that she had come to him to borrow $10,000, 
maybe $15,000. 

He smiled and asked her what her plans were, for he 
knew that her husband had left her next to nothing. 

Then she unrolled before him a map or map and sketch 
combined, and asked him if he recognized the place. He looked 
long at it and then said. "It is as the camp was fifteen 
years ago." 

"That was when I made it." she replied. 

"You made it ?" he asked. 

Then she explained that when a young- girl slie used to 
make caricatures of everv teacher that she did not like, and 



.\I.\1XZ.\ IIANWAIv:!). 205 

e\fry ])<»}■ that she Inuiul looking at her in school. That when 
her late husband found her in Xew York she was teaching 
mathematics and drawing; that when her honeymoon began 
to wane up in that mining camp, to occupy herself she began to 
sketch the camp. 

"But," she added, "look closer, .Mr. llayward! Do vou 
see these lines? They represent the old river bed. fn.m this 
point (touching the map) up and down. Mv husband worked 
out the bed above as far as he could follow it. and f<nni(l that 
the fall averaged twenty feet to the mile. Then he went below 
and started this tunnel (tapping another line) to strike the old 
bed in 700 feet. 

i le ran it 50 feet, and then the upper river bed was paying 
so much that he put all the men to work there and never 
resumed work on this lower tunnel. 1 want the monev to driye 
that tunnel 200 feet more, to strike the channel." 

"Suppose you do not strike it?" asked Mr. Hayward. 

"But I shall. I must," was the reply. "My children and 
myself cannot get along without it." 

"What do you know about mining?" asked Hayward. 

"Did I not work three years in those mines?" she asked, 
and then added: "Please keep in mind that I am no common 
miner. I am a mining engineer. Look at that ma]) I" 

"Well," said Hayward at last, "such pluck as yours de- 
serves recognition. Draw on me for all you want !" 

.The lady made good: paid him back every cent and had 
something left for herself and children. I can not tell her name 
for the children were still alive when T last heard from them, 
though their mother is dead. Everyone in .\uburn will know 
whom T mean. 

As Mr. Hayward grew old he became a great spiritualist, 
a sort of Uncle Jesse Knight, for rumor has it that I'ncle Jesse 
dreams out bonanzas ; but Mr. Hayward's spirits came out 
tiat-footed and told him what mines would do. 

The late Charlie Lane found or obtained an option on the 
I'tica nu'ne at Angels camp in Calaveras countv, Cal., and went 
at once to Mr. Hayward for help. Hayward was then an old 
man. but the I'tica was on the mother !ode ; he looked at the 



206 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

samples Lane had brought (whether the spirits approved I do 
not know, but Hay ward did) and told Lane to go ahead, and in 
the next six years the mine made them both what would ha\'e 
been great fortunes before the Comstock was found. He made 
his first and last fortune on the mother lode, and though he 
made more money on the Comstock than he did in California, 
his first love was for that same great lode that plows its way for 
three hundred miles through the Sierras ; which has made so 
many people rich and which, its friends believe, holds yet in 
its course vastly more than it has so far given up. 

Mr. Hayward was one of the first to demonstrate its pos- 
sibilities ; it made him a millionaire when millionaires were rare 
objects in this old world, and he in return made it clear to the 
men of California that the quartz of the state would many 
times make up for the vanishing placers. 

Mr Hayward died a few years ago in San Francisco. 

We do not know of one reproach that followed him out 
into the Beyond. 

He came to California and single-handed forged out a 
fortune for himself and made it from the hills; no other man 
was made poorer by it, rather while he was wresting it from 
the stubborn rocks, his life was a blessing to those around him ; 
he kept his brain alert to find where he could be of use to his 
fellow men and his heart always open and generous. 

At the same time he was a shrewd business man; if he 
was ever foolish with his money it was because he intended to 
be. Among as sharp men as ever battle for fortunes either 
through the legitimate channels of business or by desperate 
plunging on the stock market. INIr. Hayward never lost his 
head nor his temper, but moved easily among them, saved 
what he had made and added to it. 

He believed in the invincibility of work; his love for 
California and his desire to see the great state exalted were 
grand passions with him ; he was one of the very strong men 
of the Golden State for more than half a century ; and among 
those who changed the great state from its barbaric glorv in 
1849 to its enlightened splendor of today, not one did nobler 
nor higher nor more effective work than Alvinza Hayward. 



HARRY I. THORNTON. 

HI*', WAS slight and fair, not more tMin twenty-four 
years of age. I think, when he reached Cahfornia, but 
he was already an accomplished lawyer. He hailed. I 
believe, from Alabama, and was of the first families. He set- 
tled in Downieville and soon made a name as an orator and 
lawyer, and was looked upon as sure to stamp himself upon 
the state as one of its foremost citizens. His private life 
was above reproach — he always carried himself as one who 
was above winning anything except on merit, and as though 
his self-respect was something which he would sooner die 
than stain or w^ound. After awhile the Sierra district sent 
him to the legislature and he soon made a name there as a 
speaker and legislator. He \vas a Democrat of the Southern 
school and politics were fast taking on a fiery form in Cali- 
fornia. The killing of Broderick by Terry, and Ferguson by 
Penn Johnson had inflamed northern-born men of all parties. 
Though they were both killed in duels, the feeling in the first 
case was that he was challenged by an expert duelist, not be- 
cause of the reason assigned, but to get him out of the way. 
and in the latter case that it was little better than murder, for 
Ferguson was one of the most genial, gentle and kindly of men. 

The extreme Southern-born men counted on ' General 
Albert Sidney Johnston turning over the arms and ammuni- 
tion stored in Alcatraz to them. But he was a soldier, and was 
(^n his honor to perform his duty, and though all his svmpa- 
thies were with the Confederacy, he would not betrav his trust. 
\\'hen he was relieved by General Sumner, and resigned from 
the army to start for the South, a great many southern-born 
men in California followed him. 

Thornton made a ringing speech in the legislature giving 
his reasons why he could no longer serve California as one of 
her law-makers, sent in his resignation, and likewise left for 
the South. 

He was at once gi\en a commission and a place on Gen- 



208 AS 1 REMEMBER THEM. 

eral Pat Cleburne's staff. He fought in all the battles that 
the fiery Cleburne engaged in, the most furious one being at 
Franklin. He told me that on that afternoon Hood ordered 
six separate assaults upon the earthworks behind which Scho- 
field with his seven thousand veterans played upon Hood's 
army in the open field. Six high officers of Hood's army were 
killed, among whom, if we are not mistaken, Cleburne was one, 
with a score of lesser ofiicers and an appalling list of men. 
Franklin virtually decided the battle of Nashville. 

It was what Hougomont was to Waterloo, and a part of 
Hugo's description would apply to Franklin, as follows : 

"Napoleon sent his brother Jerome against Hougomont ; 
the divisions of Foy, Guillemont and Bacheln hurled thunders 
against it ; nearly the entire corps of Rielle was employed 
against it and miscarried ; Killerman's brigades were exhausted 
on this heroic section of wall. Banduin's brigade was not 
strong enough to force Hougomont on the north, and the di- 
vision of Gage could not do more than effect the beginning 
of a breach on the south.' 

And the result : 

"Banduin killed ; Foy wounded ; conflagration, massacre 
carnage ; a river of English blood ; French blood ; German blood 
mingled in fury ; a well crammed with corpses ; the regiment 
of Nassau and the regiment of Brunswick destroyed : Duplat 
killed; Blackmaun killed; the English guards mutilated ; twenty 
French battalions besides the forty from Reille's corps desci- 
mated ; three thousand men in that hovel of Hougomont cut 
down, slashed to pieces," etc. 

As will be remembered, when Sherman at Atlanta wired 
Grant, asking permission to break away from his base and go 
through to the sea. Grant wired back to detach Thomas to look 
after Hood (who was in command of the Southern army in 
front of Sherman), and then go ahead. Sherman took ninety 
thousand of his army and started "From Atlanta to the Sea," 
and the army he left Thomas was so much inferior to Hood's 
that there was nothing for Thomas to do but to fall back until 
he could unite with the command at Nashville. Then began that 



IlAKin- I. 'rilORXTOX. 209 

nioviement of Thonias" army with I loud haiii^iiii;" on his rear 
and seeking' the opi)ortunity to overwhehn him. 

When I'homas reached h'rankhn. two days' march from 
Xashxille. lie ordered Schotield with se\'en thousand men to 
occupy the works there that had previously been construclcil : 
to keep a lookout for Hood, and if he found that he was Hank- 
ino" him. to lea\e the works and hurry after him. hut if llood 
attacked him to fig;ht him until niglu and then draw out his 
troops and follow him to Nashville. ['Evidently Thomas be- 
lieved from what he knew of Hood's imj^etuous nature that he 
would try to crush Schofield and then his battle with Thomas 
wou'd be much easier, which would have been j^ood .f,^eneral- 
shij) had Schofield been in the open like hiipself. but not when 
Scliofield's army w'as splendidly entrenched. So Hood led his 
army throuo^h six distinct assaults with loss so frightful that it 
was only a half-hearted army that he had left. Thornton told 
me that in the last assault General Adams led his command 
until his horse's fore feet were reared upon the earthworks, 
w hen he and his horse were both killed. 

When nio^ht came down, following- his orders. Schoheld 
>ilently withdrew his army and hurried on to join Thomas. 
Xext morning the Confederates entered the deserted works, and 
found there the body of General Adams. The Federals had 
g-one out and carried the body in. composed the limbs on a 
blanket and over it had laid an officer's costly militarv cloak. 

When the war closed Thornton prepared the necessary 
pa|)ers and went to Washington. He went to Secretary of 
War Stanton's office next morning and waited his turn to speak 
to him. When the others were dispo.sed of. Thornton went to 
the rail which separated the outer from the inner office, and 
Stanton asked in his brusque way what he could do for him. 
Thornton, pushing forward his papers, replied : "T have come. 
Mr. Secretary, with a petition for pardon." 

Stanton looked down upon him for an instant and then 
said : "Vou had better go about your business. We are not 
^])cniling our time in pardoning boys." 

T suspect that hurt Thornton more than wDuld a blow . I [c 
had practiced law several years, been a mcmlicr of the legis'a- 



210 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

tiire of a great state and tlien had fought by the side of a oen- 
eral renowned for his fighting propensities, only to be called a 
boy and told to go about his business by a grim old secretary 
of war. 

From Washington he went to New York and watched 
the thousands that thronged the streets, the ships going and 
coming, and he told me he had never realized before what fools 
the southern men. had been. "Why," said he, "New York 
City alone could have licked us, and had she found the work 
a little too robust, she could in a month have imported enough 
Irishmen and Germans to have beaten us down through the 
sheer force of numbers." As soon as he could he sought the 
west. Reaching San Francisco, his friends advised him that all 
the rush was for Nevada, and he went there, settling first, T 
think, in Austin and going from there to Hamilton. When he 
arrived in Austin he found many old Sierra county friends. The 
first proposition was to all have a drink. As they stood glasses 
in hand, one man cried out, "Here's to the south, beaten, but 
not subdued." Thornton set down his glass and turning to the 
man, said: "Where in the south did 3^ou serve?" 

"Oh, I was here," said the man. 

Then Thornton said : "I was in the south, and I am sub- 
dued." 

He formed a law partnership with Judge Garber, and the 
firm was recognized as one of the foremost in the state for sev- 
eral years. He was handling a mining case in Belmont and the 
principal on the other side was a Frenchman who had but 
a poor understanding of English. In his final argument, 
Thornton used the Frenchman's name several times. A would- 
be funny deputy sheriff sitting near the Frenchman asked him 
if he understood what Thornton was saying. He replied that 
his understanding was imperfect, when the other, thinking 
to have some fun. told the Frenchman that he was making fun 
of him and intimating that he was none too honest. When the 
Frenchman finally understood, he grew pale and asked the 
deputy if he would carry one paper to Monsieur Thornton. The 
deputy said he would, and the Frenchman went to a desk and 
wrote something in French and gave it to the deputy. 



HARRY T. THORNTON. 211 

When Tliornton finished his arg'ument the deputy carried 
him the paper. Thornton read it, his face flushed a httle and 
leaning forward, he penned an answer. A lawyer friend was 
watching him, and leaning over him said : "What is it, Harry?" 
Thornton passed him the Frenchman's note. He read it and 
the friend said: "Are you going to notice it, Harry?" For 
answer he held up his acceptance. The friend read it and then 
declared that it must not be ; that Thornton had said nothing to 
provoke a challenge, and the man was only a boor. 

To this. Thornton replied: "When a man is willing to 
risk his life for the honor of his name, his social position is not 
to be questioned. He is a man as good as any other man." 

It required the utmost exertion of the court and bar. cou- 
pled with the protestations of the deputy that it w-as all meant 
as a bit of fun. to make Thornton concede anything. Finally 
he said: "Gentlemen, bring me a formal withdrawal of this 
challenge signed by Monsieur, or the fight goes." Then the 
Frenchman was appealed to. but he was as game as a bull-dog. 
and not until the judge of the court assured him on his honor 
that there was not a word of disrespect to him in Thornton's 
speech, would he sign the paper. He finally did. grinding his 
teeth and sw-earing low to himself in the meantime. Then 
he sprang up and challenged the deputy to fight him. "not with 
ze sabre, not with ze gun. not with ze cannon, not with ze 
bomb, but with ze fists." 

Then it required another extended explanation that the 
deputy was a peace officer, and while he held the office could 
only fight to keep the peace. 

The Frenchman was still angry when he started out of 
town toward his mine. 

Thornton and Garber were in all the litigation in White 
Pine county, and in all the great cases in Pioche and Eureka. 
After some years they removed to San Francisco and there 
maintained their high standing as lawyers and men. But after 
Mrs. Thornton died. Harry seemed to lose his interest in hi'^ 
business, and a little later an insidious disease came upon him. 
He had bought a farm some miles out of Oakland and raised 
horses and flowers upon it. He bought the place merelv as a 



212 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

resting place when he wanted to be (juiet, but as his feebleness 
increased he spent more and more time there, and I believe died 
there. 

Ele was most gifted and lovable ; most generous in his 
estimates of his fellow men. There was nothing of envy 
or jealousy in his nature ; not one drop of cold blood in his 
veins. Such a nature naturally drew men to it, and the grief 
over his death extended from cabin to palace and took in all 
classes of men. 

Except for the great war, Harry I. Thornton's name 
\v(juld have been familiar and honored in every home on the 
west coast. 

A little anecdote may make a good closing for this sketch. 
One day, when General Sherman was before Atlanta and Bragg 
was in command of the Confederate army in his front. Bragg 
sent a flag of truce to Sherman. Thornton heard the order 
given and begged to go along. The little company passed 
through the union lines and came upon Sherman's headquar- 
ters. One side of Sherman's tent was thrown back and Sher- 
man was seen within bending over a map and talking to a 
group of officers around him and gesticulating in his 
impetuous way. As the flag of truce was announced, all in 
the tent stood at attention. The ranking officer approached 
General Sherman. They had been friends before the war. 
Sherman greeted him cordially and presented him to the offi- 
cers around him. Then the Confederate officer presented those 
who had accompanied him, until it came to Thornton, when 
Sherman said: "One moment." Looking intently at Thorn- 
ton in his colonel's uniform, he said : "I had the honor of 
being associated with you in the trial of the case of Lucas 
Turner & Co. vs. Langston's Express Company, in Downie- 
ville, California. The trial began on the 16th day of Eebruary. 
1854, and lasted four days. It was a hot fight, but we licked 
'em. I am glad to see you. Col. Thornton." Then added, 
"Colonel Harry I. Thornton." Then he turned to his officers 
and introduced Thornton as an old California friend. 



H 



"DAN DE OUILLE." 

IS real name was William \\'ri<^lit, but his )ioui dc 
f^litmc grew to so much oxershadow it that thou- 
sands knew him by no other name. Prior to the war. 
the Sacramento L'ltioii had a correspondent who signed him- 
self "Clung I'^oo." He was an army officer, but in time of 
])eace wrote to the Union. He was a fine writer; his letters 
were superbly prepared and called for loving remembrance 
for years after he ceased to write. In Washoe county, Xev., 
was a prevaricator whose genius in that line is still recalled 
with admiration. Long after "Ching Foo'' had ceased t(j write 
for the I'ltioii, reference was made, in a little company, to his 
old-time wonderful letters. Our imaginative friend at once 
broke in upon the conversation in this strain : "Ching Foo was 
the most intelligent Chinaman that I ever saw. He cooked for 
me three years in Calevaras county, California. I taught him 
to write Fnglish." 

There may be grand liars still who, when occasion re- 
quires, may be telling that Dan De Ouille was a most intelligent 
Frenchman, and that it was under their care that he acquired 
a fair knowledge of English. But Dan was an American 
through and through. I believe he was Ohio born, but his 
home had been in Iowa from childhood until he went to 
Nevada. 

He reached there in the autumn of '39. I belie\e, and 
took up his home in a cabin in Silver City. He was following 
in the wake of the Grosh brothers, who either first found the 
Comstock, or at least a spur of it. built a rude furnace and 
•^melted the ore and then both died — one in trying to cross the 
.'sierras in winter, and the other of sorrow and sickness a little 
later. Dan was a good deal of a geologist and something of a 
mineralogist, and studied the Comstock from the surface to 
below the 3,000 level. He was ahvays writing dissertations 
on the lode and its formation, and when Mr. Gc^odman mo\ed 
the Enterprise to Virginia City. Dan became a regular con- 



214 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

tribiitor, which cuhninated in a few months in his becoming 
one of the staff of the great Httle paper. Then for more than 
thirty years he was in fuh evidence in the cohimns of that 
journal. Without him the paper would liave been an automo- 
bile with a punctured tire. 

He was down in the mine every day at first, and could 
the files of the Enterprise have been saved, his articles taken 
out and arranged with the proper dates, would make a com- 
plete and fascinating history of the great lode from the first. 
Moreover, what he wrote, everybody believed implicitly. This 
or that expert might make a report, and men would say, "He 
may have been mistaken." This or that owner of heavy shares 
might express his opinion, and men would say: "Maybe his 
interests prejudice him." But everyone believed Dan. 

But his work was not confined to the mines. It cov- 
ered everything; he was a mining reporter, a local reporter, 
and when, late at night, his regular work was finished, he would 
write away until after daylight on some droll story or some 
scientific theme. 

He had a quaint irony through which he could make fun 
of his fellow man's idiosyncracies, which everyone would rec- 
ognize at a glance, but he never offended anyone. 

Daggett, with his intellectual cleaver, would chop a man 
to pieces. Mark Twain, with his droll humor, would lead 
his victim up to the shambles he had in waiting for him, and 
the unconscious creature would never suspect what was going 
to happen until the ax fell. 

But Dan had a softer way. The intended victim would 
know all the time after the first ten lines that he was going to 
be sacrificed, but he was under a spell, enjoyed the process, and 
laughed after he was downed. Dan was in close rapport with 
the Indians and Chinese, and they all brought their troubles 
to him. Yan Sing came to him one day and said : "Mr. Quille, 
you sabbie! Hong Lung he die las week. We fix him up all 
lite, fine coffin, hire band, plenty music, plenty yellow paper, 
well we bellie him all lightie, but he come back first nightie, say 
he no all lite. He came nex night, say he no all lite, he come 
Slaterday night and say, 'What the h — 1! Me no all lite.' 



"DAN DE OUILLE." 215 

"Yesterday we dig him up. open boxie. what you thinkie? 
One leg puHie up so (bending his knee). We pushce leggie 
down, make um straight, nail up box, bellie him again. He 
no come last nightie." 

Dan was married, and a baby girl was born to him l)efi)rc 
he left Iowa for the far west. When old enough this little girl 
began to write him letters. They were a crown of glory to 
Dan and the w-riter of them was Dan's divinity, the one thing 
that kept his heart warm and filled with a celestial light. 

He was drinking beer with Steve Gillis one night in the 

Fredericksburg brewery, when he broke out and delivered a 

eulogy on this little girl back in Iowa. Gillis listened and 

then said : "Dan, I have been looking for just such a girl as 

hat. Bring her out here and I will marry her." 

Dan's face grew savage in a moment. Bringing his first 
down with a resounding whack upon the table, he exclaimed : 
"Xo. sir : no. sir ; no son of a gun that drinks beer can ever look 
at that girl, much less marry her." 

He wTOte up a ]")lausible story, taking as a starter the 
fact that C street, Virginia City, was exactly the same altitude 
as the surface of Lake Tahoe, thirty miles away in the Sierras. 
He explained that the excessive water in the Comstock was 
probably due to an underground channel from the lake, coming 
that long way under the mountains and under Washoe valley, 
then under Mount Davidson in the range in which the Com- 
stock is located, and filling the Comstock fissure to the sur- 
face : and all that kept it from overflowing was that the surface 
of the lake was at the same altitude as the croppings of the 
Comstock : and instead of favoring the Sutro tunnel to drain 
the lode, he suggested that shafts should be sunk in Washoe 
vallcv and drifts run. until the underground channel was found ; 
then plug that and. of course, when the Comstock was once 
pumped out there would be no more trouble from water. 

His solar armor story was one of his best ones. It was 

an invention intended to neutralize the excessive heat of the 

summer. It was called "a solar armor." It was a suit of India 

rubber that a man could put on. but within it was a compact 

ir ciimprcssi^- attached to which was a po:ket battery to run 



216 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

it. \Mien the wearer found it was growing too warm, he had 
but to touch a button to set the compressor going, and when 
sufficiently cooled, he could tDUch another button and shut off 
the power. 

At last, according to Dan, when the inventor got all ready, 
he put on the armor and started across Death valley one after- 
noon when the thermometer marked 117 degrees in the shade, 
and went out of sight in the sun. He did not return, and the 
next morning an exploring party started out to try to find 
traces of him. Out four or five miles in the desert they found 
the man's body. He had started the apparatus evidently, but 
could not stop it, and it had frozen him to death. The machine 
was still running when the body was found, and an icicle 
eighteen inches long was pendant from the nose of the dead 
man. 

About a month after the story was published Dan received 
a London Times one morning containing a marked article; that 
filled two or three columns of that ponderous publication. 

Some writer had read his article, accepted it as true, en- 
dorsed the principle and elaborated upon the advantages which 
would come of it, could the government see its way clear to 
supply the British soldiers in India and other hot countries with 
the armor. Dan read it through, then with a blue pencil drew 
a line around the article and connected the two ends with a 
])encil sketch of a hoodlum, looking at some far away object, 
and the figure had his right thumb to his nose with his fingers 
wiggling He put the paper in a wrapper and directed it to the 
Scientific Writer, care of the Times, London, England. But 
all that day he wore such a look as Dr. Holmes must have 
worn while writing that poem in which he promised never more 
to "write as funny as I can." 

His resourcefulness in a newspaper office was wonderful. 
He could do two or three men's work when necessary; his in- 
dustry was untiring and his brain exhaustless. 

He took one summer off and wrote his book, "The Great 
Bonanza," which is a true story of the Comstock up to 1875. 
He was tall and slim, and as he grew older he seemed to 
grow more spare and tall, and a feebleness came upon him 



"DAX 1)1-: (JllLIJ':." 217 

which finally left him no strength to work. lie went back to 
his friends in Iowa and as the winter came on the influen/.a 
which came that winter across the At'antic prostrated him. 
I [e recovered from the disease, but he had no strength to rally 
and after a few weeks the wornoiit machinery ran down and 
stopped. 

lie was the most winsome of men; no man was ever more 
honest or conscientious: he was gifted in a hundred ways; he 
was one of the most efficient and valuable men that ever wore 
out his life in a newspaper office, and no one who knew him 
well has ever ceased griexing f(jr him. 

He was above both l)ribes or bluffs ; no man could ever cor- 
rupt him : no man could scare him. He made no pretentions, 
but every day he followed his duty as God gave him to see it. 
and along its path, though there were sometimes thorns and 
sharp rocks under his feet, he never stopped unless to here and 
there plant a flower or a shade tree. 

He did not need any credentials when his soul went above. 
The pearly gates swung back merely at the mention of his name, 
and I fancy that the breeze that swept over Summer T.and in 
that hour, caused every harp-string to thrill with >^oft a^nl-nn 
notes in welcome to Dan. 



16 



COLONEL ROBERT H. TAYLOR. 

HE would have been a great statesman had not nature 
given him so many splendid gifts to lure him from a 
settled and high purpose. Then in a rollicking mood, 
Bacchus must have stooped and kissed his baby lips while he 
was yet in his cradle. He was just about the height and size 
of James G. Blaine, quite as bright, but far more versatile. 

He was born and reared, educated, and studied law in 
New York City. He married into a stately family there — one 
of the old "400," in which no one could gain recognition unless 
his credentials were of the highest. Had he remained T 
am sure that he would have divided honors with the very high- 
est, for his equipment was complete ; he was perfect physically 
and his mind was superb. After a few years his wife died, leav- 
ing a boy perhaps ten years old. Then came the news of the 
gold discoveries in the west, and he, with some others, char- 
tered or bought a bark, and after a very long voyage, reached 
San Francisco. Marysville had just been "located," and he 
went there to begin the practice of his profession. While 
erratic in a thousand ways he was as methodical and auto- 
matic as a piece of machinery. No lawyer ever drew up 
the papers in a case with more care. They are models in every 
court in which he ever practiced. They were perfect as legal 
documents, but in addition there was a style about them which 
few lawyers could in the least imitate, for while the strict legal 
phraseology was closely clung to, a word here and there gave 
them a rhythm which was as though Jove, while framing a 
decree, was humming low to himself a strain from one of 
Apollo's songs, which mellowed the irrevocable edict. And 
still he was a natural poet. When any public occasion required 
it. he was on hand with a poem, or a dissertation in prose 
which only required to have its measure changed to make it a 
poem. Indeed, in Marysville, he practicahy edited a newspaper 
for a long time. Moreover, he was as good an actor as he was 
poet or lawyer, and often appeared to help out an amateur play. 



COLONEL ROBERT H. TAYLOR. 219 

Later, in X'irj^inia City, lie played I ago to Lawrence Uar- 
rctt's Othello, and divided the honors with Barrett. From 
Marysville he moved to Downieville and a little later was 
elected district judge and held the oftke for years until he vol- 
untarily gave it up to remove to Virginia City. He had not 
been long in Downieville until news reached him that his boy 
in Xew York had been killed by a fall from a tree. He was 
ne\-cr quite the same after that. He had the same devotion to 
duty : the same cordial bearing, the same warm-hearted gener- 
osity ; but there was an indefinable change. He was at night 
more reckless in throwing ofif the cares of the day; his dreams 
for a high fortune and great name seemed to begin to fade 
away, and he cared less for the approval or at least the applause 
of his fellow men. But as a judge he filled every recjuirement. 
\\'e never heard a complaint of his rulings, never heard of any 
man who ever cast a reflection on his absolute integrity He 
was one of the most perfect presiding officers that we ever saw. 
either on the bench or in a convention when the disposition 
wa? sometimes to make things stormy. 

He never became confused, never lost his balance, nor his 
temper, and with his superb and perfectly practiced and disci- 
plined voice, his rulings had a cadence and powder which were 
never appealed from. He was a wonderful elocutionist. He 
could read a funeral service in a way to give the listener a feel- 
ing as though while he read an unseen organ was accom- 
panying him. 

As age came on he grew more dignified and more reck- 
less. Although 1 never heard of his quarreling, he had a self- 
respect which never failed him. A man had been saying some 
mean things about him. He paid no attention to it, but one 
morning the same man approached smiling and with a "Good 
morning, Colonel," held out his hand. Taylor looked at him 
an instant, then turning away said, "Excuse me; I have just 
washed my hands." 

I returned to Virginia City after an absence of some weeks 
and met the colonel a little after dark. We were near one of 
the famous saloons of those days, and the colonel insisted that 
we must take something. While standing at the bar, a German 



220 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

brass band, a new organization, began playing in front of the 
saloon. 

The colonel explained : "It is a new band and the mem- 
bers need encouragement. Excuse me for one minute." He 
made a dash for the leader and I went my way. 

I met him the next afternoon and asked him how he got 
along with his German friends the previous night. 

He smiled and said : "Our German-American fellow citi- 
zens are hard gentlemen to throw down. It took me until 2 
a. m. to do it." 

I met him late one night with his partner Judge Camp- 
bell, and Judge Hardy. All had been drinking a good deal. 
Campbell and Hardy were considerably intoxicated. Taylor had 
drunk as often as the others, but was fully himself. The propo- 
sition was for another drink, and Hardy insisted that Taylor 
should sing again, "If I Had But a Thousand a Year." Taylor 
was as good a singer as he was elocutionist; but he had im- 
portant business early on the morrow and said that he was 

going home. 

In the meantime, he had managed to whisper to me: 
"Hardy is getting his incipient whoop on; we must get him 
home, for when real drunk he becomes mean and quarrelsome." 
After a little further parley we started Hardy and Campbell 
in front arm in arm walking with unsteady steps; Taylor and 
myself in the rear. 

It was one of those still, delicious moonlight nights which 
Virginia City is given to in the dog days. 

" At the time the Civil war had just closed ; all three, Ta3dor, 
Campbell and Hardy, were Democrats. Hardy a fierce South- 
ern Democrat, a great friend of Terry, Gwin and the others of 
that school. But when the walk started, Campbell struck up 
"John Brown's Body Lies A-mouldering in the Grave," and 
Hardy joined him. We passed from C street up Union street 
to B, and then south on B street. 

At one of the big livery stables on B street the stable 
boys had a pet black sheep named Joe. Joe was as well known 
as the mayor of the city. He had some pretty bad habits. ^ He 
was fond of tobacco and especially fond of beer. On this nigh: 



COLONIAL ROP.KKT \\. 'lAVLOR. 221 

Joe was lying on the outer edge of the sidewalk enjoying him- 
self. Just as Campbell and Hardy came opposite him, they 
reached the stanza, "John Brown's pet lambs will meet him on 
the way, " when Joe arose and gave a responsive "Bah." 'I'he 
singers were too much occupied to notice the aptness of 
Joe's response, but Taylor, w-ith a "Did you hear that?" sat 
down on the curb of the walk with his feet in the gutter in a 
perfect hysteria of laughter. The judges turned up Taylor 
street toward A, where they both resided. I went with Taylor 
to his gate and left him. Next morning at 10 a. m. he was in 
court, and from his words and bearing no one would ever have 
discovered that a few hours before he had been sitting on the 
e(\s:;t of the sidewalk with his feet in the gutter and screaming 
with laughter over a brief remark made by a black sheep. 

He worked two years on a case in which he had a great 
fortune pending. It was decided against him in a territorial 
court. He told me that all the law and all the facts were in his 
favor ; other great lawyers said the same, but he would not 
say a harsh word of the judge. He had been for several years 
a judge himself, but had "the recall" been possible in those 
days. T suspect he would have voted for it. He worked on, but 
his wild nights became more frequent, and the w^-ong side of 
stocks had something to do with it, for he left Virginia City 
fortuneless and passed the remainder of his life in San Fran- 
cisco. 

I can but think that had he remained in New York, he 
would have made a name as great as Samuel J. Tilden or Ros- 
coe Conkling. He had all their high attributes and other 
winsome qualities that neither possessed, but lacked one 
tiling, which was fixedness of i)urpose. There was so much of 
the thoroughbred in him that once in a while if he could not get 
I)roper exercise he would kick a side out of his own stable : 
then with his strength and power he was bv nature so genial 
and so bright that every Bohemian sought hini out. Me was 
the happiest toastmaster that ever presided at a banquet: as 
orator of the day, no matter what the occasion, he was always 
l>erfect : if a role needed filling at the theatre, he could assume 
it with perfect grace, and could melt an audience to tears iust 



222 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

bv the way he read a burial service. He should have made 
for himself a great name, and would, had he been denied half 
his winsome gifts, or had his lot been cast where only steady 
business was the rule and where the highest society was exact- 
ing in its requirements. 

He was the soul of honor ; moreover, he was a devout 
Christian. He told me once that Archbishop McCloskey of 
New York was the greatest and most winsome man he had 
ever met. Under his eye what might not have been his fame ? 
Had he remained in Sierra county, he would have been judge 
for life and held with the highest. But in Virginia City in its 
palmy days, there wxre no brakes on men and every boiler 
carried double pressure. 

R. H. Taylor was one of the truest and best of friends, 
and the keenest regret that followed him to his grave was that 
he was not a more exactino: friend of himself. 



THE OLD STAGE DRIVERS. 

M( )l lA.M M I'^l) was a camel driver, but he was not like 
other camel dri\ers. The sta,iL;"e drivers in the old 
California and Nevada days were not like other stas^e 
drivers. Marysville, California, was headquarters for the 
California Stage Company, and it was there that staging was 
seen at its fulness. 

As soon as it was light on those delicious mornings, the 
criers began — one can hear them still. — "Empire Ranch. Rough 
and Ready, Grass Valley and Nevada" was the first cry. Then 
came "Oregon Ranch, Camptonville, Downieville." 'Hien 
"Oroville, Forbestown and Moore's Flat." Then "Tehama. Red 
Bluff. Shasta and Yreka," and at steady intervals in a glorified 
baritone rang out "Sacramento, Sacramento." 

Then, from the stables would come the stages. The horses 
had been driven across the plains, turned out oji their arrival 
and by the next spring they had grow^n a hand in height, and 
when taken up. fed grain and groomed, they were most beau- 
tiful. 

The great Troy coaches for twenty-seven passengers and 
drawn by eight horses, had the right-of-way. At first they 
were driven on alternate days by "Big John" and "Big Jake." 
Their real names were John Littlefield and Jacob Putnam. 
Later Oscar Ross was put upon that line, but one morning he 
ran his coach into an opposition coach and knocked it to pieces, 
and a passenger on the opposition coach, as soon as he could 
extricate himself from the wreck, fired a full charge of bird 
shot, at close range, into Oscar's side and he died three days 
later. "Big John" became dissipated and the company took 
him from the Sacramento route and gave him one of the Camp- 
tonville coaches, which were four-horse coaches. After a few 
days he made a night with the boys in Camptonville. He was 
a little "How-came-you-so" when he mounted the box next 
morning, and. going down the Goodyear hill grade, rolled his 
coach over, broke the rail from the top of it. bruiscfl badlv a 



224 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Chinese passenger, but managed to get to Marysville. He 
had the coach repaired at his own expense and next morning 
drove up in front of the stage office. While waiting for the 
time to start, a clerk came out of the office and, walking up to 
the coach, said: "Mr. Littlefield, President Hayworth has 
instructed me to inform you that your salary has stopped." 

Littlefield began to wind the reins around the brake liar, 
and in a soft voice which grew harsher as he went on, said : 
"My compliments to President Hayworth, and kindly say to 
him that while I hate to disappoint him, if what you have just 
said is true, I'll be d — d if I drive!" 

Robert Robins and his twin brother Dan drove the .Shasta 
stages, leaving Marysville on alternate days. They were 
known as "Curly Bob" and "Curly Dan," because of their 
curly hair. As the railroad stretched its way up toward Te- 
hama and Red Blufif, and staging declined, they came to this 
side of the Sierras and drove on the Overland and branch lines. 
They were fine looking men and great drivers, and had none 
of the wild strata in them which is so common in men of their 
calling-. Rob died some years ago in Idaho, and Dan in Salt 
Lake City a few months ago. 

Baldy Green was another famous whip. He was an old- 
time California driver and then for years handled the ribbons 
on the Overland between Virginia City and Austin. 

The last I heard of him he was a justice of the peace in 
Humboldt county. His knowledge of law was limited, but 
he surely had a great deal of horse sense. He must have been 
of the Sancho Panza order of magistrates. 

Of course half of the world has heard of Hank Monk. 
Before there was any grade over the Sierras and before the 
■finding of the Comstock, Monk drove a stage between Genoa 
and Placerville. It was there that Horace Greeley encoun- 
tered him and the famous story has been told with more vari- 
ations than are used w^hen "Home. Sweet Home" is played on 
the piano by an amateur. There was not much to it except 
that Greeley grew impatient going up the mountains from the 
Genoa side and sharply told Monk that he was put down for 
a lecture in Placerville that night. Monk with his drawl told 



THE OLD STACK TM<I\'I:R. 223 

liiiii to keep his seat, that he would have him there on time. 
Ivcachiii^H the summit. Monk shook out his team and Mr. Gree- 
k\v's head colhdcd with the top of the coach at short intervals, 
which caused him tn cry nut to g"o slower, liut Mnnk'> loily 
reply was: "Keep your seat. Mr. (ireele\-; 1 will have nui 
there on time." 

Mr. (ireeley did nut know it. hut the man on the hox 
was ahout the most supcrh reinsman in the world. His secret 
was his exact calculation. With every rihbon a])parently loose, 
he W(^ukl turn a running" team on a narrow street, and bring 
them to a full stop at exactly the rig-ht jjoint. 

A friend of mine came down one evenins^ with Monk from 
Glenbrook on 1 .ake Tahoe. to Carson City, fourteen miles, in 
forty-five minutes. The friend asked him if he ever rolled a 
stage over on that route, for the horses were at full gallop half 
the time. "Oh. no." was the reply, "when you strike a level 
grade ride your brake and let the stock go : but when you 
turn a curve, take ofif your brake and give the wheels full play, 
because to ride a brake around a curve when going lively might 
make you trouble." 

Monk had a superior education and was famous for droll 
expressions. I was riding beside him once when, nearing a 
wayside hotel, a man with overcoat on arm came running 
out of the hotel to the coach. Monk pulled up his team, when 
the man said : "Monk, have you seen Bill lately?" 

"Yes. saw him yesterday; he's coming down with me to- 
morrow." was the reply. 

The man said he was glad, turned and walked back to the 
hotel, and Monk, easing up on the reins, the team trotted on. 
When we had gone a few rods. Monk said : "T wonder what 
Rill that yahoo meant?" 

"What Bill did you mean?" I asked. 

"I meant the way-bill." said Monk. 

Mrs. of Virginia City went up to Tahoe in a 

carriage one day for a few weeks' rest in the hot weather. 
She left her trunk — a skyscraper — to be sent next dav bv 
coacli. When Monk reached the hotel at the lake, the ladv. a 
fidgety little woman, was on the upper jiia/^za looking for her 



. 226 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

trunk. It was not there, and, knowing- Monk well, she called 
to him and asked where it was. 

"They were sawing it in two when I left," he replied. "I 
will bring half of it tomorrow and the other half next day." 

The lady rushed to her room and cried out to her hus- 
band : "They are sawing my trunk in two in Carson and all 
my good clothes are in that trunk: all my party dresses." 

"Oh, well," said the husband, "that will be all right; you 
are not more than half dressed anyway when you go to a 
party." 

At last, after many years, Monk tipped a stage over. He 
never recovered from the humiliation of it, and died a few 
months later. 

But when the Comstock was discovered, stages and stage 
drivers reached perfection. The coaches were beautiful, the 
horses magnificent, covered with ivory rings, tassels on their 
head stalls, and trappings generally as splendid as could be 
invented. There were two rival lines : the California Stage 
Company's line from Dutch Flat via Donner Lake to Virginia 
City and Wells Fargo & Company's pioneer line from Placer- 
ville via Genoa and Carson City to Virginia City. The drivers 
were the finest that could be found. Among these were John 
Burnett, whose sobriquet was "Sage Brush:" Wm. Gephardt, 
"Curly Bill ;" Charlie Livermore, and others. 

"Sage Brush" was a wonder with the reins. He was 
diiving for Jack Gilmer in Nebraska and Dakota when in a 
quarrel one night he killed or desperately wounded a man. 
The difficulty was fixed up some way, but he thought best to 
leave that region, and finally reached Sacramento. He was a 
small man and was much travel worn, but he walked into the 
stage office then in charge of Grant Israel and asked if he 
needed a stage driver. 

Israel had just quarreled with a recalcitrant driver and 
discharged him, and was in no good humor. Turning fiercely 
upon Sage Brush, he said: "A stage driver? Did you ever 
drive a stage?" Sage Brush had a drawl like Mark Twain and 
he answered, "A little." ^'Ever drive two horses?" was Grant's 
next question. "Sometimes," said Sage Brush. "Ever drl\e 



Tin*: OLD STAGE DRIX^ERS. 227 

four?" asked Israel. "Occasionally," was the answer. "Ever 
drive six?" asked Grant fiercely. "Oh. yes, once in a while." 
said Sage Brush. "When can you go to work?" asked Israel. 
"Whenever you like." was the answer. "Do you know where 
the stage barns are?" was Israel's next (|uestion. Sage Ih-usli 
said he did. 

"Well," said Israel, "go there tomorrow niurning at six 
o'clock and tell the men you are to have the six bays for the 
Placerville route. Come down the street that the barn is on 
to a block below this, then turn to the left a block, then turn 
into this street and bring the coach to this door!" "All right." 
said Sage Brush, and turned to the door. But Israel hailed 
him and. calling him back, said: "I suppose you are broke; 
take this." extending a twenty-dollar gold piece, "and get 
yourself a sciuare meal!'' 

"No. thanks." said Sage Brush. "I have plenty of money. 
I only drive stage for exercise." and went out. 

Then the clerks in chorus said: "Mr. Israel, you surely 
are not going to give that team to that emigrant ! They will 
kill him before he ever reaches this office." 

"Suppose they do? You don't know how much I would 
give to see a stage driver killed. I have felt that way for a 
week." 

Israel was out on time next morning to see the tenderfoot 
bring down the team ; so were the clerks. He did not come 
down the back street, but down the street on which the r)ffice 
was situated, only on the other side, and the team was trotting 
along gently enough, all their pranks seemingly put aside. 
When a little below the office, the driver seemed to rouse him- 
self. There was a swift tightening of the reins, a sharp crack 
of the whip, the leaders came around on a run. the swings on 
a gallop, the wheelers on a fast trot ; at just the right moment 
all the reins were pulled taut, the driver's toe touched the 
brake, from the driver's lips came a low "ehe." and the team 

stood still. "A stage driver at last, by ." cried Israel, and 

the clerks said. "You bet." 

The stable boys said that before the new driver mounted 
the box. he inquired the name of each horse, then went to eacli 



228 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

one, called him by name, rubbed his nose a minute, talking low 
to him, and "hoodooed the whole bunch." "Sage Brush" 
drove the first coach on the Donner Lake route out of Virginia 
City every night, and "Curly Bill"' the second. "Curly Bill"' 
was not nearly so expert a reinsman as was "Sage Brush," but 
was a tremendously powerful man. One day a lady in his 
coach called to him asking protection from a passenger. The 
passenger happened to be a distinguished army officer who had 
made a great name in the Civil war. But that day he was in 
his cups, and in a vicious mood. Curly Bill got off the box, 
and, going to the stage door, said to him that one wearing the 
uniform he had on should respect it too much to make a woman 
afraid. The officer made an insulting reply, whereupon "Curly 
Bill" reached in, took him by the collar and hauled him out, 
bringing the door of the coach with him. The officer was 
appalled by the terrible strength of the driver, appalled and 
sobered. He apologized to "Curly Bill" and to the lady, and 
for the rest of the journey was "childlike and bland." 

The teams driven in and out of Virginia City were mar- 
vels, but when the climbing of the Sierras began, less valu- 
able horses were used. One day at Hunter's Station on the 
Truckee, Spaulding, superintendent of the road, asked "Curly 
Bill" if he would not for a few days exchange his team going 
west from there for that of "Sage Brush." At this "Curly 
Bill" demurred, saying that he had taken pains with his team, 
that they traveled together like clock work, and he did not 
want to give them up. Then Spaulding said : "But that team 
of Sage Brush's are big half-breeds, wild as Zebras and a bit 
vicious withal, and 'Sage Brush' is afraid that some day when 
he has a big load of passengers on the grade something will 
happen and he will have a spill." 

"Oh, that is different!" said Bill. "Give me the right-of- 
way and I will try them." The next day the passengers were 
seated in the coach and Bill was on the box when the "devils" 
were brought out. It required two men to each horse to hook 
them to the stage, then the reins were passed to Bill, and he 
nodded to let them go. They all sprang into a run, over the 
bridge they flew and up the road for a mile, when Bill said to 



rill': OIJJ STACK DR1\'KRS. 229 

,1 man l)csi(lc him: "I wonder if they are real game." With 
that he leathered the reins, touched his foot to the l)rake, and 
all six went up into the air as though they had struck a stone 
wall. "Why, they're dunghills." said Bill. and. taking his 
whip, he lashed them for a mile, then threw them up into the 
air again, and thus lashed them and hauled them up by turns 
all the way to Crystal Peak. They went into Crystal Peak in a 
•icklv lope. Thev were all afoam and trembling almost in a 
collapse of exhaustion. 

"Sage Brush" had crowded Bill's team to the utmost, and 
reached the Peak a few minutes later. 

Bill, pointing to the panting, trembling horses, said : 
"They are broke, Sage Brush." And Sage Brush replied: 
"They look it." 

When the railroad superceded the stage, "Curly Bill" 
established a livery stable in Virginia City and later removed 
it to San Francisco, where he died last year. 

"Sage Brush" drifted to White Pine and then back to 
Austin. There one night he ran upon his own sister in a 
iiuestionable place, went to his room and shot himself dead. 

Charlie Livermore drove out and into Virginia City on 
the Placerville route. 

At the beginning of this paper I made reference to Big 
John Littlefield. After losing his situation in California, he 
went to Virginia City and his friend, Deland, who had the 
Eclipse mine, gave him a fine six-horse team and wagon and 
set him to hauling quartz. But he got full, let the team get 
away from him and smash the wagon. Livermore told me 
that one morning he was driving his coach up the steep grade 
through Gold Hill. He had his pet six-horse chestnut team 
with all their trappings on, a full load, inside and out, of pas- 
.sengers. ladies and gentlemen, and he believed he had the finest 
team and coach in the world. Then he caught sight of Big 
John — who had driven the Troy coach and eight horses be- 
tween ^^arysville and Sacramento — dri\ ing a donkey not much 
bigger than a jack rabbit on a whim close beside the road. 
Livermore said : "I was foolish enongh to call to him and say. 
'Wh\-. John, what are you doing there?' when, in a voice like 



230 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

a fog horn John shouted back, 'I am trying to see to how d — d 
fine a point I can reduce this stage-driving business'." 

Littlefield went north and died, I beHeve, in Oregon many 
years ago. 

After the collapse of staging in Nevada, Livermore w^ent 
to Arizona to drive on a line there. He had nothing left but 
one ivory ring such as are used where the reins cross between 
a team. 

His first drive was in the night, and his only instructions 
were to follow the road. He was given four mules as wild as 
deer. It took several men to hitch them up ; when they started 
it was on a run. A jolt put out all the lights. After a few 
minutes the coach stopped and the leaders disappeared in the 
darkness, the lead reins being pulled through Charley's hands. 
His first word was "Keno !' 

Someone trying to find water had sunk a great shaft fifty 
feet deep, the lead mules had run directly into this shaft. As 
they fell the goose neck of the wagon pole broke, leaving the 
wheelers and coach on the brink. Asked what he thought, 
Livermore said: 'T knew in a minute that my ivory ring was 
gone forever." • 

When Big Jake gave up staging he went to Virginia City 
and opened a bank, — not a national bank, but one of King 
Faro's, and became wealthy. Each year when the snow was 
deep and the sleighing good, it was his custom to hire a four 
or six horse team and sleigh with double bob-runners, fill the 
sleigh with robes and children and give the children the ride of 
their lives. 

They are all gone. I do not know one of the old band 
that is left. 

The world will never see their like again unless somewhere 
in the Cordilleras or Andes another Comstock may be found, 
beyond the reach of railroads, where steep grades will have to 
be climbed and descended and sharp curves rounded and com- 
merce will have to return to old methods. 

As it is, the old race have all passed away as did that 
driver in Sacramento, who, when dying, whispered : "It's a 
down grade and I can't reach the brake." 



JUDGE ALEXANDER BALDWIN. 

IN Nevada he was known as "Sandy"' Baldwin ; a small 
man about five feet eight in height, weighing perhaps 
135 pounds. Had he been born a bird, he would have 
been a game rooster or an eagle. 

He was the son of the famous Judge Joe Baldwin of 
Alabama, who wrote "Flush Times in Alabama." Sandy was 
not as great a lawyer or as profound a scholar as his father, 
but was growing to be both when overtaken by an untimely 
death. 

He was one of the partners of William M. Stewart in 
\'irginia City when he was appointed a United States circuit 
judge for Nevada. 

This appointment sobered him a good deal, for he fully 
realized the responsibilities of the place, and notwithstanding 
his impetuous nature and the strong prejudices which he never 
sought to conceal, in his rulings an enemy was liable to fare 
better than a friend, for his thought seemed to be : "\\'ould it 
not be a shame were I to permit my personal dislikes to sway 
my judicial judgment in weighing the legal rights of this 
man." So he gave him the benefit of all his doubts. 

But it was when practicing law in Virginia City that he 
shone best. His audacity was something beautiful to see, and 
he kept his natural impudence burnished bright, though his 
hearty good nature made every one fond of him. 

One day in a case a great deal of trouble was encountered 
in selecting a jury. The attorney opposed to Sandy was one 
given to spending much time on details, some of them trilling 
in importance. Finally, Sandy appealed to the court, pointing- 
out that half the day had been spent on trifles not worth con- 
sidering, adding that a few minutes were as good as a few 
hours in reaching a conclusion whether a man was competent 
to sit on a jury or not. 

His opponent replied that he was bound to use every 



232 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

precaution and that he wanted the cause of his chent tried by 
a jury of his peers. 

Quick as a iiash Sandy responded : 'T see, you are expect- 
ing a break from the Nevada penitentiary and that all the 
convicts will make a rush for Story county to serve on juries." 

In those years of 1861-62 and '63 about the hottest thino- 
in Storey county was politics. Parties were about equally di- 
vided and party feeling ran very high. A contingent of the 
Knights of the Golden Circle was there and it was understood 
that if a break was made in California a like stand would be 
made in Virginia City. There were many sharp Cjuarrels and 
here and there a man was killed, but when Sumter was fired 
upon, most of the Douglas Democrats joined with the Repub- 
licans, while the southern wing of the Democracy clung to the 
cause of the south. 

Sandy was from the South, but he was a Union man, and 
this made the chivalry hate him worse than they did northern 
born Union men. But Sandy cared nothing for that. 

One da}^ a southern man was telling of the loss his family 
in the south would suffer should their slaves be freed, where- 
upon Sandy oiifered to bet him a thousand dollars to five hun- 
dred that no member of his family ever owned a slave; that 
in the south he belonged to the "poor white trash," that even 
the slaves had a contempt for, adding: 'T know you by your 
walk. You have that shamble which is hereditary with your 
class of poor whites." 

Before the autumn election in 1864 the Democrats had a 
county convention in Virginia City and determined to have a 
torchlight procession at night. The torches were secured and 
a brass band engaged and the procession started. It made a 
fine showing as it marched up C Street ; the band playing and 
the men cheering. 

Sandy was watching, but suddenly stepped from the side- 
walk into the narrow street, and, touching one of the link men 
on the shoulder, with a stately courtesy, said : "Excuse me, 
my friend, and pardon my suggesting that you carry your 
torch nearer vertical, lest you burn the hair from the teeth of 
the o-entleman next behind vou." He deserved killing everv 



JUDGE AL1':XANDER BALDWIN. 23i 

day for the things he said, but somehow they never killed him. 

The RepLibhcans held a convention in Virginia City once, 
and a somewhat noted speaker was very bitter on the south. 
n\ the men who lived on the uni)aid labor of the slaves, and 
spoke generally disdainfully of southern men and methods. 

\\'hen he finished, Sandy sprang to his feet and made a 
speech, the tenor of which was something like this : 

"I hope never to hear another speech such as we have just 
listened to, for it is hard for some of us to bear. 

"The south is wrong now. but the}- are a brave and im- 
petuous race and I can understand how, environed as they are, 
as their lives have been, they have been led into their present 
attitude. T am satisfied that had I remained there. I should have 
been with them heart and soul. But no matter how much in 
the wrong they may be, there is no nobler race of men than 
they ; they treat their slaves better than the gentleman who has 
just addressed you would had he been a slaveholder among 
them ; and the man who discounts the manhood of the men or 
the womanhood of the women of the south, is to be pitied for 
his ignorance, for he knows nothing of what he essays to 
discuss." 

Judge Baldwin had a high and proud career in Nevada 
and grew in intellect as the years went by, but suddenly in the 
\ery prime of his manhood and when his abilities were at their 
highest, he was, in 1869, killed instantly in a railroad collision 
near Alameda, California. 

He was greatly missed and mourned in Nevada. 

He would have been a distinct personality in any country ; 
so game was he, so alert, so audacious and yet so kindlv. He 
had all the attributes that go to make up a brilliant and stal- 
wart man ; he was an honor to his name, to the state that gave 
him birth, to the state in w-hich he was so conspicuous a figure 
for fifteen years. He was buried from the home of his great 
relative, John B. Felton, in Oakland, and the winds that sweep 
in through the Golden Gate pause to murmur over no braver 
grave than his. 

Judge Baldwin's wife was one of the most beautiful 
women of the west coast. About the time of the judge's death 

16 



234 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

the wife of General John B. Winter, Superintendent of the 
Yellow Jacket mine at Gold Hill, died. The families had been 
intimate friends and two or three years after the death of 
Judge Baldwin and Mrs. Winter, the General and Mrs. Bald- 
win were married, and a little later removed to San Francisco. 

From the beginning of the mining on the Comstock a 
weird woman lived there. She kept a boarding house at first 
in Gold Hill, but became the owner of twenty feet in one of 
the Gold Hill mines; the Alta, I believe. "Sandy" Bowers, 
an illiterate and uncouth man in many ways, a rough miner, 
also owned twenty feet of the Gold Hill ground. He boarded 
at the house of this woman and soon made her acquaintance; 
they were each receiving" large dividends from their interests ; 
at last they were married and their united ground, when sold, 
made them very rich. 

Mrs. Bowers claimed to possess the second sight, and I 
guess she did, for she told people many things which seemed 
to have no more substance than a vagrant dream, but, as a 
rule, they came true. She was called "the Washoe seeress," 
and some of the strongest men on the Comstock were wont 
to consult her. She knew Judge and Mrs. Baldwin well, as 
she did almost everyone else in western Nevada. 

One day in 1877, I think, she met R. M. Daggett on the 
street and Daggett accosted her in his cheery way, with : 
"What's the news, Mrs. Bowers?" 

She replied : "I have something very strange to tell you, 
Mr. Daggett. I was alone riding in my buggy down in the 
valley last night, when suddenly Sandy (Baldwin) sat on the 
seat beside me. I hate to have him come, for he is always 
jollying me the same as he used to when in the old days I met 
him here in Virginia Cit}^ 

"But last night there was an exultant, joyous look on his 
face — a kind of glory — and he held up before me a pair of 
white gloves — you never saw anything of such celestial white- 
ness as were those gloves, and he whispered : 'Alice will be a 
bride again tonight.' Have you heard any news from San 
Francisco this morning?" 

Daggett replied that he had not, that he had just come 



JUDGE ALEXANDER BALDWIN. 235 

down town and was on the way to his office. As he ascended 
tlie stairs, lie was saying to himself: "The old lady is grow- 
ing more and more uncanny." He entered his office, hung up 
his hat and sat down at his desk, when there before him lay a 
sealed telegraph dispatch. He tore it open and read the fol- 
lowing : 

"San Francisco, Cal., . 

"Editor Enterprise, Va. City, Nez\ 

"Mrs. John B. Winter — she who was the late Judge 
Alexander Baldwin's wife, died in this city at 1 :15 o'clock this 
morning." 

All their friends hope that the phantom gloves were 
drawn in all their whiteness upon her ghostly hands that night 
and that their second honeymoon is to last through all eternity. 



PROFESSOR JOSHUA CLAYTON. 

THE schools do not perfect all the great men, or open for 
them avenues to travel up the trails which lead to success. 
They do not supply half the school masters of this 
world, for now and then there comes one who can teach the- 
masters. 

The heroes do not all appear on the battle line, or on the 
decks of fighting ships, for the bravest of the brave are those 
who fight their way through the dark ambuscades of ignorance 
and poverty and superstition up into the celestial light. 

Joshua Clayton was one of these. Born somewhere in the 
wild mountainous regions of Georgia, in the heroic squalor 
which abounded there some four score years ago, where poverty 
was accepted as a matter of course, but where a fierce manhood 
would brook no criticisms, nor acknowledge that there was 
anything to be apologized for ; in those primitive surroundings 
Joshua Clayton was born and grew to manhood. 

All his life, to his credit, he was proud of the manhood 
and exalted womanhood of that region, his belief being that it 
was from such stock that primitive man emerged and from 
which, when the right germs began to expand, civilization and 
enlightenment were finally evolved. 

Somehow he learned to read and write, and to obtain the 
simplest rudiments of an education. We suspect that he owed 
more to a glorified mother than to all the schools — we mean 
schools taught by men and women. 

But of the other school, that of nature, he was a pupil all 
his days ; from rocks and trees and stars all his life he drew 
knowledge which through the chemistry of genius he trans- 
muted into wisdom. 

He would have been a boon companion of John Muir. 
Together they would have searched the record of the glacier 
and discovered the vital energies that set it in flow : where the 
earthquake had been upon its march, like camp followers, they 



PROFESSOR JOSHUA CLAY TON. 237 

would ha\e unearthed from the debris it left why it was 
wakened to Hfe and the object of its campaign. 

He was an omniverous reader; a Hfelong student, who, 
after a hard day's toil loved nothing so much, ta rest himself, 
as to spend half the night in working out some scientific prob- 
lem. He went over the problems that other scientists had 
solved and tried them to see if they would stand the test of 
later knowledge, and many a time he pointed out their errors. 

He was one who. had no elements of science ever been 
reduced to rule aiul form, would have promulgated the rules 
and established the forms. Often he would modestly demon- 
strate by exact figures or illustrations where this or that great 
man had erred, both in theory and in elucidation, at the .same 
time explaining how natural was the mistake with such lights 
as the learned men had before them at the time they lived. 

He came with the Argonauts to the west coast, and his 
years in California were devoted to study, and to obtain means 
to live upon he w^orked in tlie placers and in the quartz mills. 
He was an expert worker of gold ores. 

Give him a shell and he would at a glance tell you to what 
age it belonged and how long its former inmate was engaged 
in building the house in which he lived before 

Leaving his outgrown shell by life's unresting sea." 

To his opinions on all these questions. Clarence King. 
Raymond — the whole array of scientists, conceded his superi- 
ority. 

He loved to sit by the hour where the earthquake had 
rent the earth's crust, and explain why it was attended by cer- 
tain profound phenomena. 

He loved to explain why the glacier was but a sublime 
preliminary in preparing the earth for races of intelligent 
beings, which at the time and for millions of years thereafter 
had no existence save in the mind of God. 

Could such a man have strolled quietly into Athens and 
found Socrates teaching the youth of the city, he would have 
sat flown beside the great scientist and explained that fr<>ni the 



238 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

crop]:)ing"s and other surface indications the old sage was 
mistaken. 

He was always humble, cheerful, kindly and passionately 
fond of real friends, but he really needed no society except 
his hand hammer, his magnifying glass and a mountain crest 
covered with shells and rocks. 

With these he could summon all the ages around him, all 
the master spirits of the past, and be at home with them. 
He became a great geologist ; he read surface indications as 
an open book. In this he never made but one mistake. 

He w^as prone to tell from surface indications what would 
surely be found in the deep, and this propensity he could never 
outgrow. He kncAv the rock formations were full of faults ; 
that the chimneys in the fissures up which the treasures w-ere 
drawn were often closed, but he seemed to have a passion for 
what would surely be found below, and thus made mistakes. 

He said from the first, as did Professor Frank Stewart, 
that the natural pitch of the Comstock w^as to the east, and 
gave his reasons for his belief in the face of Professor Silli- 
man's judgment, and was right. He was the first, we believe, 
to call attention to the mighty future which Ely district would 
have, and in his wanderings he took in every known mining- 
camp of Nevada and passed upon its worth. 

Then he explored Utah and later Montana, and in almost 
every case his translations of the hieroglyphics which the ages 
had inscribed upon the rocks, were right. 

When the day's work was completed it was a fascination 
to listen to him as he recalled his life since reaching- California. 
Before anyone else had done it, he had counted the little records 
made by the years on the stump of a mighty Sequoia in Cala- 
veras county, California, to make sure of the age of the big 
tree. He told me that it was 978 years old when King John 
signed the Magna Charta and 1255 years old when Columbus 
first sailed for the New World. He sketched for me the 
work of the glaciers in grinding down the shales and freeing 
the gold found in California placers. It was a great shock to 
him when silver was demonetized. "What are they thinking 
of?" he said. Then he explained that from the first the increase 



PROFF.SSOR J()STU;A CLAVTOX. 239 

and decrease of the production of tlie precious metals had 
marked the ebb and tlow of civiHzation : that from the first 
g;old had been the money of kini^s and the ricli of the world, 
that silver had been the anchor of the poor; that when in Jeru- 
salem "silver was no more accounted." the masses of the people 
were so steeped in poverty and in such despair that so soon as 
Solomon died, they revolted under unbearable burdens: that 
the infusion of silver into Europe from Mexico and Peru at 
last g-ave the poor the courage to cry out for freedom and the 
French revolution was the final explosion. Then he predicted 
that with gold the only standard in the United States, it would 
speedily be absorbed by the rich and panics anrl depression 
would follow. 

He was an intense American. When in a frenzy his native 
state framed a secession ordinance, he read the account, gr(jw- 
ing very white and still, then dropped the paper, sat for a long 
time in silence, and those near him heard him, speaking low to 
himself, murmur: "Father, forgive them for they know not 
what they do." 

A rare. high, brave, humble soul ; for forty years he made 
but a doubtful living in the states of California, Nevada. Utah. 
Idaho, Montana and Oregon, and was finally fatally injured in 
a stage coach accident. Not one in a hundred of those who 
knew him half appreciated his marvelous intellect or the 
grandeur and nobility of his soul. 

They made his grave in the beautiful cemetery that over- 
looks the city of Portland, Oregon. It is such a place as he 
would have chosen for a resting place, for there nature is lavish 
in her splendors, and a hush like the calm of his own soul 
broods over the place even as when a mother bird gathers under 
her wings her brood that they undisturbed may sleep. 

Below, the clear Willamette winds through its lovely 
valley; in the distance "rolls the Oregon," and Hood, and Jef- 
ferson, and Adams and St. Helens and the other sentinel moun- 
tains keep perpetual guard around his grave. After his high 
and blameless life, it is sweet to think of him wrapped in the 
luish of eternity amid just such .scenes as were his rest and 
delieht in life. 



ADOLPH SUTRO. 

HE W^AS a massive and masterful man physically. He 
niust have been six feet and two inches in height and 
big every way. When I knew him best, he weighed 
perhaps two hundred and thirty-five pounds, but was as active 
as a boy and seemed ever driven on by an energy that never 
tired. He had a lion-like face and a brain that was always 
alert and strong. 

He was an early comer to San Francisco from some Ger- 
man state. It is said, and his after life was a confirmation of 
the story, that he brought with him several kegs of German 
coins, worth about seventeen cents each. It was most diffi- 
cult in California at that time to get the small change needed 
in business. There were plenty of slugs (fifty dollar octagon 
pieces) twenty and ten and five dollar pieces, but small change 
was very scarce. So the German coins passed readily for 
twenty-five cent pieces and Mr. Sutro lost no money on them. 
He opened or purchased a modest cigar and tobacco store and 
attended to it carefully, but his brain was at work. He kept 
posted on everything that concerned business in the Golden 
State, watched, studied and waited. 

When the Comstock was discovered with its mixed gold 
and silver ores — the values were 56 silver and 44 gold — there 
was not a man in the United States who could reduce the ores 
in a practical way and give a fair percentage of the values, 
except by smelting them; there was no flux to do that, and 
the great body of ore was too low grade to bear shipping to 
where it could be smelted. It was clear that the reduction 
must be near the mines. Rude mills were erected, but the loss 
suffered by running the ores through them was enormous. 
The old Spanish Patio process was tried, but that was too slow 
and imperfect. In those days, about one man out of four had 
a process for working the ores, most of which were, of course, 
worthless. 

Colonel Brevoort had a little mill down at Silver Citv 



ADOLl'li Sr'iR(>). 241 

and made a small fortune running^ it. but all the time was at 
work in his laboratory and succeeded. With a few ounces of 
crushed ore he could draw all the precious metals they con- 
tained to one pole of his battery. He sold his mill, went east 
and exhausted the fortune he had made in tryinjj;' to make h.is 
invention of practical value, but failed. 

Mr. Sutro nuist have invented a process, for he crossed 
the mountains and built a small mill at Dayton. Like the pru- 
dent man that he was. he had the mill insured. But it would 
not work the ores, and. after making- several trials, he closed 
the mill down. Shortly after, one night the mill burned down. 
Xo one could ever account for the fire, but that it was an honest 
one there could be no doubt, for Mr. Sutro was at Virginia 
City that night and the keeper was burned to death in the mill. 
From the beginning much water Avas encountered in sink- 
ing iin the Comstock and that it must be drained l)y tunnels 
was accepted as a fact. One or more short tunnels were run. 
After the burning of the mill. Sutro took up this scheme in 
earnest. He had surveys made, maps prepared and demon- 
strated that a tunnel about four miles long started on the banks 
of the Carson River, north of Dayton, and driven to the Com- 
stock would tap the great lode some 1 .650 feet below C street 
in A'irginia City. 

He organized a company. He showed that the great ore 
channel could be drained and all the ores from the mine could 
be run out through the tunnel far cheaper than to transport 
them by wagon. Then it was most natural to expect that in 
its course the tunnel would encounter other paying veins, par- 
allel to the great lode. The mining companies along the lode 
looked upon the scheme as practical and at first gave it full 
encouragement. 

Sutro knew nothing about running tunnels, but with his 
disposition to dominate everything he insisted not only upon 
acting as superintendent, but upon superintending the details 
of which he knew nothing. He bought shiploads, almost, of 
machinery which proved worthless, and ran the business in a 
way which was clear evidence of incapacity. 

Tn the meantime, some of the shrewdest and squarcst in- 



242 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

(lustrial chieftains ever seen in the A\'est were opening the 
Comstock; they would not stand for Sutro's work, and when 
they told him what must be and he refused, there was a quarrel 
and they washed their hands of the enterprise. 

Then Sutro began his clamors against them. He desig- 
nated them as the "bank ring,'' which, in his broken English, 
he pronounced "bankving," and for years his denunciations of 
the "bankving" were incessant, and the perfidy which he in- 
sisted had been practiced upon him was one of his chief argu- 
ments for selling the tunnel stock. 

Meanwhile the men at work on the great lode were doing 
more and more superb w^ork. They installed more and more 
and larger and larger pumps, sank deeper and deeper until, 
by the time the tunnel reached the lode, the mine was opened 
1,000 feet deeper than wdiere the tunnel pierced it, and thus 
the great necessity of the tunnel was largely discounted. After 
years of trial, Sutro finally relinquished all but the general su- 
perintendency, leaving the driving of the tunnel to the capable 
men below ground. 

Then the political bee that had hived in Sutro's bonnet be- 
gan to buzz. By 1872 he was prominent in politics. He was 
loud in his praises of the gentleman who, for the two previous 
years, had been Nevada's Democratic congressman, declaring 
that he was the only honest man that Nevada had sent to either 
House of Congress for years ; that he was one man who could 
not be corrupted. 

It transpired later that in some quiet way the Congress- 
man had reached an understanding wnth Sutro by which Sutro 
felt sure that he could depend upon the Congressman serving 
him in any way he might suggest. But he must have been 
mistaken, for within a brief half-year, Sutro was not only 
denouncing him as the biggest thief of the whole bunch, but, 
moreover, the most treacherous and ungrateful one. 

As a sample of Sutro's methods, as that election dre\\' 

near, he employed all the men who made applications for work 

until he had within and about the tunnel fifteen hundred men. 

Then three days before the election he assembled them 

and made a speech, the burden of which was that if his 



ADOLPII SUTRO. 243 

friend, the Congressm.in, sIkhiIcI be re-elected they could all 
depend upon permanent employment, but if lie failed of elec- 
tion, lie would be obliged to close down the entire works. 

His friend was elected and on the first payday after elec- 
tion they were all dropped except the regular force of about 
one hundred and forty men. 

In 1874 Sutro was a pronounced candidate for the United 
States Senate. He established a daily newspaper on the Coni- 
stock and employed that fine writer and man. Charles Sumner, 
of San Francisco, to manage and edit it. Charlie did his best 
and did great work, but we have a suspicion that for years 
thereafter he would have been willing to certify that the work 
was the toughest in his experience. Sutro himself rigged up a 
magic lantern and made an illuminating campaign of the state. 

There seemed to be sort of an affinity between him and the 
lantern. At Hamilton, in the midst of his speech, the lantern 
grew suddenly dim, the voice of Sutro began to falter ; then 
the lamp blazed up for a moment and the speech was resumed 
with energy, then the lamp dimmed again, and with a final 
sputter went out and just as suddenly the lecture closed. 

I was editor of the Virginia Enter prise at the time, and 
early in the campaign I promised Sutro, through the paper, 
that he should not have one vote for Senator in tlie Legislature. 
And he did not. 

His feelings were much lacerated by the result. Ijut ilic 
people contemplated his sufferings with dry eyes. 

He sold the stock of the tunnel only, as he claimed, to get 
money to complete it. The men of his native country and of 
his race purchased the most of it, and it was with apparent 
great .sorrow that he let any of it go; it would, as he predicted, 
pay such princely dividends when completed. 

Shortly after the tunnel pierced the lode. Sutro resigned 
the superinten<lency. shook the sage-brush and the dust of 
Xevada from his brogans and removed to San Francisco. 

Then the stockholders discovered that despite his high 
estimation of the value of the stock, he had been persuaded to 
unload practical!)' the whole of it upon his friends; they had 
the stock and the experience; .**lutro had a good many millions 



244 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

of dollars. This I have from one of his own race and one of 
the heaviest stockholders in the tunnel. 

I did not follow his career very closely in San Francisco. 
He transformed the spot now called "Sutro Heights" and pre- 
sented it to the city. How the gift affected the value of his 
other real estate in the neighborhood I never learned. He 
ser\'ed a term as mayor, and I am informed made a good mayor. 
It seemed clear to some of us that he was still working for 
the position he had so long coveted — a United States senator- 
ship. His career was suddenly cut short by death. 

But no one must lose sight of the fact that he was a mas- 
terful man, physically and mentally, that with the absence of 
two or three traits which w^ere inborn, he would have been a 
great and commanding man, that, as it was, the work he wrought 
through the long years in which the tunnel was building was 
a tremendous one, such an evidence of courage, faith and ten- 
acity of purpose as few men have shown, and that the tunnel 
today is the splendid monument which he built to himself — out 
of the sale of his st(^ck. 



HARRY MIGHELS. 

A SMALL man physically was Marry Mi,q;hels, but the 
concentration of genius, audacity and pluck. In young 
manhood he was associate editor with Crossett on a 
newspaper in Oroville, California. They made it the most 
sprightly and interesting newspaper in northern California. At 
that time, Oroville was but a mining camp, the depot and sup- 
ply station of extensive placer mining, where, from the ordi- 
nary simple washing of gold from the sands, there was the 
damming of the rivers in the autumn, and the washing of their 
beds down to bed rock. 

The rivers were dammed, the waters turned aside in 
flumes and ditches, and then the rush to mine out the 
section thus exposed before the heavy rains of the autumn 
came, and the rivers, crushing everything before them, 
returned to their channels. If the dry season was long con- 
tinued, little fortunes were made: if the rains came early, for- 
tunes were lost. It was entirely legitimate work, but it was. 
nevertheless, absolute gambling. A man or company in effect 
wagered, say $20,000 on the weather. The bet was that it 
would not rain before a certain time. If it did not. then the 
man or company won from $50,000 to $200,000 through wash- 
ing the gravel above bedrock. A great many men won for- 
tunes that w^ay, and were at once rated as shrewd, sagacious 
miners. If the rains came unexpectedly early and the invest- 
ment was lost, there were plenty to aver that any fool could 
have told them that it was impossible to turn the stream in 
time to wash the river bed. 

But there was a great deal of this work done, and that was 
an exceedingly rich gold region is still in full evidence, for the 
steam dredge has laid waste all the region around there to filch 
from it its gold, even to the extent of tearing up the orange 
orchards on the river's banks. 

It w^as there that Mighels reveled in the excitement of 
mingling with the hundreds and thousands of the old-day 



246 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

miners. He wrote extravagant stories, the more extravagant 
the better they suited; he said through the type audacious 
things about miners real and fictitious, and the miners laughed 
over them ; he was little more than a boy and small in stature, 
and the miners said : "Is he not a game and saucy little cuss ?'' 
He was a devoted lifelong friend of George C. Gorham ; and 
was to Oroville what Gorham was to Marysville. 

On one occasion it was determined to give a grand ball 
in Oroville. In anticipation of it, Mighels drank too much Cal- 
ifornia wine. It was a new beverage then and cheap, and it is 
true that while French grapes carry but a little more than three 
per cent of alcohol those of California carrv from thirteen to 
sixteen per cent. 

The result was that when it was time for the dancing io 
begin. Harr}' was not in a condition for dancing, except that 
when he attempted to walk his motion took on some of the con- 
ditions of a two-step; but it was not keeping srep with any 
music. His sublime confidence never deserted him. He 
approached Airs. Crossett, as. the skilful captain does the en- 
emy's earthworks — by zig-zags, and besought the honor of a 
dance. Mrs. Crossett, with a laugh, said : "Not, now, Harry ; 
there is not room on the floor for all your steps." and taking 
the arm of another gentleman, proceeded to the ball room, leav- 
ing Harry in the most indignant and unforgivable mood in the 
world. A short hall connected the reception and ball rooms. 
Mighels worked his way to this hall, and when the dance was 
over and the dancers came out, as Mrs. Crossett approached, 
Harry, with a lofty air, said : "Mrs. Crossett, I wish to speak 
to you." "^^'hat is it. Harry?" was the lady's reply. He 
straightened up and extending his right arm, said : "I wish to 
inform you, madam, that in my opinion you are no gentleman." 

The truth of the remark could not be questioned, and it 
added to the hilarity of the occasion. 

^^'hen the great Civil war came on, Harry did not hesitate 
for a moment. He took the first steamer for the East, enlisted 
and was given a place on General Joe Hooker's staff. 

At Antietam he was desperately wounded. AA'hen stretched 
upon the operating table, the surgeons examined the wound. 



HARRY MIGHELS. 247 

ami their faces became grave. Harry was watching them, and 
in a feeble voice said to the chief surgeon: "What are my 
chances, doctor?" With a compassionate voice, the surgeon 
replied : 'I am sorry to say you have not more than one chance 
in ten to live." "One in ten," replied Mighels cheerily. "1 
will take that chance. I tell you there was never a rebel bullet 
cast that could kill me." He finally pulled through, but was 
long recovering and never again could join the army. After 
the war. he returned to California and soon drifted to Nevada. 
There some old and new friends endorsed for him and he 
established the Carson Appeal. He ran it with all the old-time 
vigor. 

When the Virginia and Truckee Railroad was under con- 
struction it was impossible to get competent white laborers 
except at miner's wages, and the company obtained Chinese 
graders from the Southern Pacific. They graded the 
road from Carson up to the Storey county line. (Vir- 
ginia City is in Storey county.) Then a delegation of the Com- 
stock Miners' union called upon Mr. Yerington, the superin- 
tendent of the little road, and told him that if his Chinese 
graders ever tried to extend the grade over the county line 
something very serious would certainly happen, and advised 
him not to try it. 

Mighels, at the time was under many obligations to the 
owners of the little road, and day after day. through the 
Appeal, scored the foreign-born miners who would not permit 
another class of foreigners to earn their bread in a class of 
work which the miners would not engage in at any price. His 
anathemas against the foreign-born miners were terrible. All 
that invective and scorn could invent was poured out through 
the Appeal morning after morning, and when anything espe- 
cially savage appeared. Mighels would go to Virginia City 
that day and walk the streets with the biggest chip on his 
shoulder that a man of his size ever carried. 

Some years later a political convention nominated him 
for lieutenant-governor. He stumped the state and the date of 
his meeting in \''irginia City was adx-ertised some davs in 
a(]\ance. 



248 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

His opponent went to the library and from the Appeal 
files copied the most furious of the expressions that he had 
used in his fight upon the foreign miners ; had them set up and 
struck off in leaflets which by thousands were scattered over 
the sidewalks on the afternoon of the day on which Mighels 
was advertised to speak. 

That same afternoon, Harry came into the Eiitcrprise 
editorial rooms and said to me : "They are going to pack the 
house on me tonight. Some of them are hot enough to shoot 
or bring on a riot. What is your idea of the best way to meet 
those wild devils?' I said, 'T don't know, Harry, except in 
my thought, as lots of them are fighters, they will stand a brave 
bluff better than an apology." 

The meeting came ofi: as advertised and about midnight 
Mighels came again to the Enterprise office, and in response to 
the inquriy of "What kind of a meeting did you have, Harry?" 
he said : "The sons of guns, they came there to scoff ; they 
went away to pray." 

One who was at the meeting told me what happened. His 
words were about as follows : 

"The gallery was packed to the limit with men who were 
there for any kind of a row up to riot and murder. 

"Mighels, with no introduction, walked to the front of 
the stage with a bunch of leaflets that had been scattered on 
the street, in his right hand. The house was as still as a Cali- 
fornia morning when an earthquake was scheduled for that day. 

"Holding up the leaflets, Mighels, looking up at the hos- 
tile rows of faces in the gallery, said : T suppose the few of 
you who can read have read these things to the rest of you. 
Let me tell you something. I wrote them. Every word of 
them. 

" 'Why I wrote them you will never know, for the secrets 
of the sanctum are as sacred as the secrets of the confessional. 

" T am a candidate for lieutenant-governor. I would, 
inasmuch as I have been nominated, like to get as many votes 
as possible, but let me inform you that I do not need the office. 
I have that little printing of^ce down at Carson ; I have enough 
paper on hand to last me ten or fifteen days ; T have a wife and 



HARRY MIGHELS. 249 

four children/ then, retreating- a step, lie slowly picked up a 
glass of water from the table, took a swallow, and slowly 
set down the glass. Suddenly lifting his fist and bringing it 
down with a resounding blow on the table, he shouted : 'And 
they are all mine.' 

"The audacity of it all. the certain conviction that came 
to those who had gone there to break up his meeting, that 
they might do it, that possibly they might kill him but never 
scare him. came upon them in a flash and they shook the house 
with their cheers, and cheered every point he made during 
tlie meeting, and at its close left the house saying as did the 
Oroville miner twenty-five years earlier. 'Is he not a game and 
saucy little cuss?' " 

But even then an insidious and fatal disease had begun 
its work upon him. and a few months later he died. His was a 
distinct individuality wherever he went. 

T heard him once talking to Mr. Sharon. It was when 
Mr. Sharon was a candidate for United States senator and he 
wanted Mighels to support or fight some proposition. I do not 
remember what it was. when Mighels refused. 

Sharon at last told him that he was too poor to be so inde- 
pendent. "Poor." said Mighels. "You ought to see my last 
baby. Why. I am richer than you are." Then Sharon told 
him not to talk like a d — d fool. "Was I talking like a d — d 
fool ?" asked Mighels. "Of course, you were." was Sharon's 
replv. Turning to me, Mighels said : "Is it not wonderful 
how T can adjust my language to the comprehension of some 
dull men?" 

His death was a great loss. He was a decided genius, 
and he was growing mentally every day. Had he survived 
but a few years, the highest places would have been open to 
him. and he would have filled them, filled any place in the gift 
of his people, with wonderful ability and perfect integrity, and 
with a courage that nothing could daunt. Great Harry; poor 
Harry, may his last, long sleep be sweet. 



17 



SAMUEL L. CLEMENS-"MARK TWAIN." 

MOST of the intelligent people of the world are familiar 
with the personal appearance of ]\Iark Twain, as he 
was on earth. Of medium height and weight, dark- 
complexion, eyes and hair like an Indian, a strong, expressive 
face, a beautiful head, as a man ; and one, who, when a baby, 
must have been a mother's darling ; and as she held him to her 
breast she fondly believed that he would grow up to be not 
only bright and respectable, but a wonder among his fellow- 
' men. I have an idea that a mother's thought, if intense enough, 
makes its impression upon the child before or after birth, and 
that that impression lasts and in a measure C(^ntrols the child 
through all its life. And I am ready to believe that what 
was best in ]\Iark Twain came of that impression. 

Abraham Lincoln was born in squalor; his childhood was 
so pitiable that men recoil when they read the story of it. 
Through one fierce winter the rude house in which he lived had 
but three sides to it. the fourth was open to the pitiless winds 
that swept across the Indiana prairies. But perhaps it was 
through that open side of the house that the great angel came, 
and noting the rude cradle witliin. bent and touched the 
lips of the sleeping child with the signet of immortality. But 
it is more acceptable to believe that the mother, destitute of all 
other treasures save that baby, so yearned with love about it 
and so impressed her life upon it that as the years went by, the 
fruition of those hopes was reached and that thus the man 
became immortal. 

Mark Twain was born in Florida, Alonroe county, Mis- 
souri. There is nothing to show that he was different from the 
other boys around him. 

^lissouri was crude in many ways when he was a boy, 
but it had great old forests which gave out nuts and wild bees 
in the autumn, and there were fields where "roasting ears," 
cantaloui)es and watermelons grew, and forest and field sup- 
plied plenty of joys to boyhood. The chances, too, are that 



SAiMLEL L. CLEMENS— "MARK TWAIN. " 251 

Mark tell in love very early, and possibly that event of his life 
was later the inspiration of "Tom Sawyer." Then he wan- 
dered off to tiie big- river in Missouri and by a sort of natural 
gravity we hear uf him first as an assistant pilot on a Missis- 
sipjji steamboat. Later, 1 believe, he became a real pilot, thougli 
an old man has been reported recently as saying that he taught 
liim what he knew as a pilot, but told him that he never would 
be a good one — that he was too funny. 

The first I heard of him was when he began t(j write 
cmiimunications for the Territorial Enterprise, published in 
Virginia City, and his communications were signed "^L1rk 
Twain." There is a little interim between the time that he 
ceasefl to be a pilot and the time when he became a miner in 
Nevada that I cannot connect by any data that I can secure. 
It was whispered that early in 1861 he was for a time in the 
Rebel army. Tt is possible that he was one of the Missouri 
State guards. If he was, he grew tired of the work pretty 
soon. It is quite possible that he had an experience like another 
Missourian — a learned judge that I once knew. He told me 
that they organized a Confederate company or two in St. Joe. 
that they raised the Confederate flag over the courthouse, and 
when they met by day or by night they were wont to say to 
each other. "W'e would like to see a Yankee army try to lower 
that flag." Then he added: 

"One morning a special train pulled into St. Joe, five 
companies of General Lyon's regular soldiers "detrained," and 
forming in column marched to the courthouse. The colonel 
in command detailed a lieutenant to go up and take down the 
flag and substitute the American flag. It was done, the lieu- 
tenant returned and took his place. Then, by order, the com- 
mand saluted the old flag, and taking the Confederate flag 
with them, marched back to the train, boarded it and pulled 
out of town." 

Then he said : "We looked in each r)ther's faces. None 
of us felt like going up and taking down that flag, for we had 
seen, though on a small scale, the real flag, borne by real sol- 
diers, under real discipline, and somehow the idea came into 
oiu" minds that we were not verv much warriors after all. and 



252 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

that there were several lessons which we would have to learn 
before we could call ourselves thorough veteran soldiers, irre- 
pressible and invincible." 

JMaybe ]\iark Twain had a little experience like that, but 
that is mere speculation. I know nothing- about it except that 
by his own confession he was once a Confederate soldier. 

The first I ever heard of him in Nevada was after the 
territory was organized. James W. Nye of New York (the 
famous Nye) was appointed governor and Orion Clemens, a 
brother of Mark Twain, was appointed secretary of the terri- 
tory. 'At that time Carson, the capitol, was a young town. The 
increase in houses did not keep up with the increase in people. 
Most of the houses were of the original California style — rude 
boards outside, and the partitions made, not out of studding 
and lath and plaster, but of canvas covered with paper, which 
houses had the disadvantage of taking all privacy away from 
the occupants. It was in one of these houses that Orion Clem- 
ens was installed on his arrival in Carson. His room was 
fitted up with mahogany or black walnut furniture — black wal- 
nut was the rage in those days — and there one day the occu- 
pants in the next room heard a man come into the secretary's 
office, heard him push a chair to one side, heard something 
very much like what is heard when a man puts his feet on 
the table, and then they heard a drawling voice say : 

"You're playin' Hades out here. Brother Orion, are you 
not? Fine furniture, fine office, everything. But they'll drop 
on you after a while, Brother Orion. They will find out about 
you. about half as much as I know now, and you'd better go 
back to your oxen. Oxen are your strong suit. Brother Orion." 

With Nye, when he came from New York, came a young 
man named Robert Howland. He was one of those "Don't- 
care-a-cent" young men, ready for any lark, afraid of nothing 
in the world; jolly, cordial, a man for men to like at first 
sight and for women to be charmed with. He and ^^Tark 
Twain soon contracted a friendship for each other, and when 
the news came in from Aurora, one hundred miles south of 
Carson, of the great discoveries in that camp, these two young 
men formed a partnership and in some way got to Aurora. 



SAMUEL L. CLEMENS— "MARK TWAIN." 253 

There they bought or built a rude cabin and passed the cold 
winter therein. Years later Bob used to tell that in that bleak 
winter it was the wont of Mark Twain and himself to go out 
at night, steal the empty fruit cans, oyster cans, empty cham- 
pagne bottles and bottles that once held booze, from the rear 
of saloons and boarding houses, carry and pile them up in the 
rear of their own cabin to give it an opulent look, that passers- 
by in the daylight might say, "My, but those fellows must be 
flush with money!" 

As the Fourth of July grew near, Mark wrote a Fourth of 
July oration, signed it "Mark Twain," and sent it to the local 
paper, in which it was copied. It began with the words, "I 
was sired by the great American Eagle and borne by a conti- 
nental dam." This struck the fancy of Joseph T. Goodman, 
the owner and editor of the Territorial Enterprise in Virginia 
City, and he wrote to Mark that if he was not making more 
money mining than he would as local reporter on the Enter- 
prise, he would hold a ])lace for him. A few days later, when 
]\Ir. Goodman was entertaining some friends in the sanctum, a 
man walked in. shod in stogy shoes, wearing Kentucky jean 
pants, a hickory shirt and a straw^ hat. all very much tra\-el 
worn, and in addition had a roll of ancient blankets on one 
shoulder. He shrugged that shoulder, dropped the blankets, 
and staring from one man to another, finally drawled out. 
"My name is Clemens." That was Mark's introduction to real 
journalism in Nevada. 

But in a few days Mark was clothed and in his right 
mind — and just here a word about his noni de plione. The 
most authentic account that we have of it was Alark's explana- 
tion that a bright man used to write stories in New Orleans 
and sign them "Mark Twain," and when the man died Mark 
stole the iiom de plume. He gave other reasons during his 
lifetime. One was that it was to shorten the work of the ter- 
ritorial legislature of Nevada so that members could refer tn 
him, not as "that disreputable, lying, characterless, character- 
smashing, unscrupulous fiend who reports for the Territorial 
Enterprise, but as 'Mark Twain'." Another story was that 
he q:ot it from a roustabout on the steamboat, when thcv were 



254 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

near dangerous banks and the lead had to be thrown, and he 
would report "Mark one" or "Mark Twain." It is no matter 
whether he invented it or stole it. he wronged no one else and 
he made the title so famous that thousands know it wdio do not 
know his real name. 

That coming to the Enterprise was the making of Mark 
Twain. I doubt very much whether he ever would have been 
famous at all except for his experience there. He found an 
atmosphere different from what he ever dreamed of being in. 
The office was filled with bright men, the town was filled with 
bright men. There he saw men that had made fortunes quickly, 
others who were trying to make fortunes quickly, and he saw 
other men who never had fortunes and never expected them. 
And he would hear them rail at the millionaires and say that 
the fact that they had money was a sure sign of how little 
God thought of money, judging by the men he gave it to. R. 
M. Daggett was on the Enterprise, and from his example he 
learned that when it was necessary to call a man names, there 
were no expletives too long or too expressive to be hurled in 
rapid succession to emphasize the utter want of character of 
the man assailed. Dan De Ouille was working with him. too. 
He used to write famous stories on almost any subject, and 
he knew all about the gift of using adjectives. It was con- 
tagious in that office. It reached to the composing room. 
There were typesetters there who could hurl anathemas at 
bad copy which w^ould have frightened a Bengal tiger. The 
news editor could damn a mutilated dispatch in twenty-four 
languages. 

There was a compositor named Jim Connely. At that 
time the Enterprise was a six-day newspaper. Jim used to 
work faithfully through the week, but Saturday night he 
would "load up." Sometimes the load would last him over 
Sunday, and when he reached the office Monday morning he 
was a little trembly. One Monday morning he tried to dis- 
tribute type for a few minutes, but laid down the stick, saying 
that his eyes were bad, wondering if he was going to be blind 
before he died, and thought he would go outside and take a 
spin around the block and see if he would not feel better. He 



SA>[rKT. L. ILI-.MI.XS— -MAkK TWAIX." 255 

(lid so. Probably be partook of tbree or four jolts wbile gfoinj^ 
around tbe block, for wbeti be came back and i)icked up bis 
composing stick, anotber printer asked bim bow bis eyes were. 
He answered, "bine." Tbe rear windows of tbe Enterprise 
looked over tbe lower bills and out upon tbe twenty-six mile 
desert bevond. And as Jim said, "Fine!" be pointed out of 
a window and said: "Can you see tbat gray wolf on tbe 
twenty-six mile desert? I see bim plain." 

1'bat was tbe cbaracter of society tbat Mark was intr<3- 
(luced to, and outside tbere were tbe brigbtest lawyers, doc- 
tors and tbe sbrewdest men of affairs in tbe world, and Mark 
gnt pc^inters from tbem all. If be wrote a good tbing tbey 
would praise bim and tell bim to keep on, tbat tbere was some- 
tliing in bim sure. If Homer nodded witb bim sometimes tbey 
wmild bold bim up to scorn tbe next day: but be noticed 
tbrougb all tbat notbing w-as too extravagant for tbem in tbe 
wav of description, and notbing too fine. 

Mark Twain did not like a joke a bit if be was tbe vic- 
tim. Tbe boys of tbe Enterprise office made bim a formal pres- 
entation of a meerscbaum pipe. He was exceedingly. pleased, 
but wben be found next day tbat be could buy any number of 
sucb pipes at $1.50 eacb, it filled bis soul witb a desire to mur- 
der somebody, and be did not outgrow tbe feeling for a montb. 

\\'ells Fargo's coacb was robbed of $25,000 at tbe Mound 
House, balf way between Virginia City and Carson. .\ 
week later some of tbe wild cbaps in Virginia City beld up 
Mark Twain on tbe divide between Virginia City and Gold 
Hill and took bis watcb and money. He tbougbt it was a 
genuine bold-up. and decided to go tbe next evening to San 
Francisco for a brief vacation. As be was sitting in tbe c<iacb 
in front of tbe International 1 b^tel waiting for tbe Ikhu- of de- 
parture, tbe same gang, beaded by George Birdsall. approacbed 
tbe stage and passed bim a package done up in paper. He 
tore tbe paper open and saw inside bis watcb. and realized tbat 
bis robbcrv was all a fake, and witb bis drawl said: 

"It is all rigbt. gentlemen, but you did it a <lamn sigbt 
too well for amateurs. Xever mind tbis little dab of mine, but 



256 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

what did you do with the $25,000 that you took from Wells 
Fargo last week?" 

He was in San Francisco when that city suffered a severe 
shock of earthquake. It happened one Sabbath morning about 
ten o'clock and IMark wrote a .description of it to the Enter- 
prise. The files of the Enterprise were burned and the letter, 
I believe, is lost to all the world : but some things about it 
seemed to me at the time about the j oiliest writing that ever 
Mark Twain did. I believe I can recall a few paragraphs of 
it from memory almost word for word. He said : 

"When that earthquake came on Sunday morning last 
there was but one man in San Francisco that showed any pres- 
ence of mind, and he was over in Oakland. He did just what I 
thought of doing, what I would have done had I had any op- 
portunity — he went down out of his pulpit and embraced a 
woman. The newspapers said it was his wife. Maybe it was, 
but if it was it was a pity. It would have shown so much 
more presence of mind to have embraced some other gentle- 
man's wife. 

"A young man came down from the fifth story of a house 
on Stockton street, with no clothing on except a knitted un- 
dershirt, which came about as near concealing his person as 
the tin foil does a champagne bottle. Men shouted to him, 
little boys yelled at him, and women besought him to take 
their sunbonnets, their aprons, their hoop skirts, anything in 
the world and cover himself up and not stand there distracting 
people's attention from the earthquake. He looked all around 
and then he looked down at himself, and then he went upstairs. 
I am told he went up lively. 

"Pete Hopkins was shaken off of Telegraph Hill, and on 
his way down landed on a three-story brick house (Hopkins 
weighed four hundred and thirty pounds), and the papers, 
always misrepresenting things, ascribed the destruction of the 
house to the earthquake." 

And so the letter ran on and on for a column and a half of 
the old, long, wide columns of the Enterprise, and every line 
was punctuated with fun. 

He finallv went to Honolulu for a vacation. There he 



SAMl'KL L. CLI'MRXS— "MARK TWAIN. " 257 

completed a lecture which he had been preparin.ij;^, and return- 
ing t(» San Francisco, delivered it. A great hit was in the ad- 
vertising, which announced that the doors would be open at 
7:30 o'clock and tlie trouble would begin at eight. A little 
later he joined an excursion party to the Mediterranean and 
its shores, from which he wrote the famous "Innocents 
Abroad." He took the manuscript tu a portly publisher in New 
Vork. and, throwing it down on his desk with his card, said: 
"I'd like to get that stuck into antimony." (Types are 
made of antimony.) The publisher looked at tlie manuscript, 
then glanced at the card, then looking up to Mark, said : 
"Who are your references. ]Mr. Clemens?" 
He replied: "I haven't any in the wr^rld. There are nn\\ 
two men I could app'y to. One is Joe ("lOodman, the other is 
Terry Driscoll. and they would not count, because they'd lie 
for me just as I'd lie for them." 

Since then the world has known the history of Mark 
Twain. As I said above, it was the making of Mark Twain 
to go to work on the Enterprise. It opened a new world tn 
him. AH his life before he had been mostly wdth ordinar\- 
people, but there he found the majority of people were bright as 
dollars, as brave as lions, all alert, all generous, all readv to 
give credit where credit was due and none afraid to criticise 
anybody or anything else. And over all was the steadying 
influence of Mr. Joseph T. Goodman, the owner and editor of 
the paper. I think Mark Twain out of pure gratitude to him 
should have left him a part of his fortune. Goodman himself 
is as brave a man as ever lived, a thorough journalist, with 
magnificent journalistic judgment, and he steadied Mark 
through the years and was Alark's particular inspiration, in- 
deed, the affection of Twain for Goodman all his life was 
made clear in his own autobiography. 

When he went east and his first book came (»ul .md 
he was hailed as a genius, he might have gone to the dogs had 
he not met the woman wdio became his wife and who was his 
salvation. That changed the wdiole course of his life, aw'akened 
new hopes, changed all his prospects; gave him to .see how 
much there was in a refined life. Then when he made his 



258 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

home in Hartford and all his associates were refined and edu- 
cated people, the change from his former life was an epoch 
to him ; and still there are some things about him which are a 
mystery to those who knew him well. There is no evidence 
that in his boyhood he was fond of study or fond of literature ; 
he wrote nothing that attracted especial attention until after 
he was thirty years of age. 

It is not strange that he wrote so many humorous things, 
but the style of his writing is a perpetual mystery. Where did 
he get that ? His English was always perfect, and it was of a 
high class which draws readers to his work every day. 

We wish for the sake of his fame that he would oftener 
have done what Shakespeare did — all at once break out in a 
dozen lines of such majesty and beauty that it thrills people 
and always will. However, his fame is secure enough; his 
work was a distinct addition to the literature of the United 
States. But could some one have followed him about and taken 
down his remarks every day and compiled them in a book, 
it would outsell all his works, for he was funnier everv hour in 
his conversation than anj^thing he ever wrote. 

I met "Josh Billings" as he came west a few days before 
he died. I said: "Of course, Mr. Shaw, vou know IMark 
Twain?" 

"Oh, yes," was the reply. "I went to his hotel in New 
York last week to see him and was told that he was o\'er in 
Jersey lecturing, but would be back about midnight. 

. "Mark had a parlor and bed-room and out of the parlor 
another bed-room opened. They gave me this bed-room. I 
retired, leaving the door open. About 2 a. m. Mark came in. 
He turned up the gas, came to my bedside and said. 'Hello, 
Josh.' T asked him where he had been. 'Over in Jersey 
lecturing,' was his answer. I asked him if he had a good time. 

"With a look of sorrow, he said : 'Had a devil of a time. 
Just before the lecture was to begin, a young man came to me 
and asked me to come with him. He led me to where there 
was a hole in the drop curtain, and with much emotion said. 
'Please look through this. The old gentleman with the white 
hair to the left of the center ais^.e. in an orchestra chair, is mv 



SAMUEL L. CLKMEXS— "MARK TWAIX.- 259 

father.' "Ilien witli a .^iilp lie explained that the old .ei-entieman 
had been afllicted with a settled melancholy for a loncj time, 
and that if I could say anything" to ronse him it would he an 
immense favor to the whole family. I said. 'AH right.' The 
curtain went up and my lecture began. After two or three 
minutes I shot a joke at the audience, but meant it for the 
old man. It didn't faze him. A little later I tried another 
joke at him ; it didn't faze him. Still a little later I gathered 
m}'self up and hurled my masterj^iece at hitu. The audience 
veiled, but the old man didn't e\'en smile. Tlicn T thought 
that T could not devote all my time to him. that something was 
due the audience, and so went on and finished my lecture. 

''Then the young man came and in a soft voice inquired 
if I had succeeded in arousing the interest of the father. 

" 'N'ot a blamed bit,' I replied. 'He sat there as though 
lie did not hear a word.' 

" T g^uess he didn't.' said the Reuben. 'A powder mill 
explosion twenty years ago smashed the drums in his ears 
and since then he has been as deaf as a post.' Here Mark 
added. 'And T had no weapons'." 

When the Litsitania first came to New York, he was in- 
vited aboard the great ship and shown around. When the 
inspection was over, he casually remarked that he would tell 
Xoah about that ship. 

I hope he has found Xoah now. and all the rest of the "old 
boys" that have g'one over on the other side; and if he has. I 
predict that whether it is up above or down below, a ripple of 
laughter will follow his footsteps in either place through all 
eternitv. 



JUDGE R. S. MESICK. 

THREE SCORE years ago a man who possessed $200,000 
was considered very rich. When the Comstock was 
(Hscovered and it seemed to be pitching to the west, the 
hillside below the great lode to the east was covered with loca- 
tions wherever there were croppings of ore. When suddenly 
at a depth of about two hundred feet the Comstock was found 
broken off, and with a little sinking, and drifting to the east 
found again, pitching to the east, then the question at once 
arose as to the titles on the surface hillside. 

The claim of those on the lode was that with their location 
they had a right to trace the vein wherever it pitched, west or 
east. Then there were such pitched legal contests created as 
had never been known. The fees paid to attorneys were such 
as had never been paid before, and that naturally drew to the 
Comstock an array of attorneys more able than had ever been 
gathered together. 

Perhaps General Charles S. Williams was the Nestor of 
them all. He had been a great lawyer and attorney general in 
New York. But around him was an assemblage of attorneys, 
all of whom were great. We may name such men as C. J. 
Hillier, Thomas Williams, Moses Kirkpatrick, Wm. M. Stew- 
art, Judge Joseph Baldwin, who had made a great reputation 
in Alabama before he went to California; his son. Judge 
"Sandy" Baldwin, C. E. DeLong, Horace Smith, Jonas Seeley, 
Sunderland, Crittenden, Mitchel, Aldrich, Hundley, Judge Cy 
Wallace, John B. Felton and a score more. 

But the first obstacle was the courts. The United States 
courts were made up as a rule of broken-down politicians, sent 
west to pay political debts or to get rid of their importunities. 
They were in a strange field ; questions that had never been 
submitted to courts before were before them. In a legal way, 
as a rule, they were utterly incompetent, and a great many of 
them were corrupt. The brightest one of them all in a little 
while got to selling his opinions; and worse still, a little later 



• JUDGE R. S. MICSICK. 261 

he got to selling out to both sides, which was a sure sign, under 
the ruling of Zinc IJarnes, that he must be a little crooked, be- 
cause Zinc's definition of an honest man was "a son-of-a-gun 
who would stay bought." 

The suits were multiplied, the courts were far behind, 
and it w^as a pitiable spectacle to see those great attorneys try- 
ing to get a little information through the brains of those in- 
competent judges. The situation was one of the impelling 
causes that led to making Nevada a state before it had either 
a population or developed w^ealth to entitle it to statehood. 
But the state was admitted, and R. S. Mesick stooped down 
to accept a district judgeship that he might help clear the cal- 
endars and get the court running on a legitimate basis. 

Just as Judge Mesick had finished his regular course in 
Yale and afterwards at the law department of Yale he joined 
the Argonauts who went to California. He located in Marys- 
ville. In those days Marysville had a wonderful bar. Judge 
Stephen J. Field, who afterwards sat more than thirty-three 
years as justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, 
was practicing law there. There were many other great law- 
yers. 

Mesick's legal abilities were acknowledged at once, but 
in those days he was a little shy. due perhaps to a lingering 
provincialism which made him rather think that with his ac- 
complishments and his training he had a certain dignity to 
maintain. In those days he w^as as good a lawyer as Judge Field 
and practiced law in Marysville until the Comstock was dis- 
covered. 

\\'hen he went upon the bench in Virginia City he was 
surrounded by more temptations than ever a judge was before : 
but he so bore himself in that office that when his short term 
was out, he had the full respect of all the bar and of all the 
people. Beyond that it was plain to the bar and to the people 
that he was about the greatest man that ever gave the best years 
of his life to the golden coast. He w'as not only as great a 
lawyer as Field, but he possessed elements of statesmanship 
which were denied Justice Field. 

In Nevada his exclusiveness w^ore away. Some people 



262 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

had called that exclnsiveness pride, but really it was but a dig'- 
nity which he held to be due his profession, mixed with a little 
natural shyness, and while he mellowed down, he maintained 
that dignity to the very end. Through his friction against men 
on the Comstock, he took on tlie wisdom to note that all around 
him in every walk of life, were intellectual giants ; that in the 
original elements into which society was there resolved, the 
brightest brain could only aspire to be an equal and not a su- 
perior. And he was surrounded by brains, some of which were 
cleavers and battle axes, some Damascus blades, and in the 
wielding of those weapons they were all trained until they had 
become real gladiators. There were trials in which a spec- 
tator saw only flashings of great lights ; there were argu- 
ments which Burke would have listened to enchanted ; there 
were bursts of legal eloquence which would have charmed Clay 
or Prentiss. It was an arena where giants contested. 

In that arena, whether on the bench or at the bar. Judge 
Mesick was a captain. No subtlet}^ could jostle him into mak- 
ing a weak ruling; no artifice could prepare an argument that 
he could not seize and puncture if within it there was one 
weak point or false principle embodied. 

But it was not only as a lawyer and jurist that he was 
great. Had he remained in the east and married some woman 
great enough and true enough to have held up his strong arms, 
there could not have been a place so high that he might not 
have justly aspired to attain it. He would have been rated 
the peer of the very highest; as scholar, lawyer, judge, orator, 
statesman. 

But the customs of the coast had their influence upon him. 
He was not free from some human weaknesses. Moreover, 
down deep he was one of the most lovable and genial of men. 
Despite his reserve he would, could he have had his way, "have 
lived by the road," where he would have met his fellow-men, 
met them with their virtues and faults and affiliated with them 
all. 

He was altogether a manly man, even when he gave way 
to his weaknesses. The divinity within him shone out always, 
the same under the light of a tallow dip as under an electric 



JUDGE R. S. MESICK. 263 

chandelier. He had courage that never failed him, he had in- 
tegrity and self-respect and respect for his profession that 
nothing could turn aside. 

A very rich man. on one occasion stated to him the points 
of a case and asked him if he could win it in court. His answer 
was : 

"I might, but I will not try." 

"Why not?" asked the man. "You are tiot very rich and 
there are thousands of dollars in this for you if you will under- 
take it." 

"But T will not," said ^lesick. 

"And why not?' asked the would-be client. 

"Because it is a dishonest proposition : because you are 
hoping through the power of your money to perpetrate a great 
wnMig, to accomplish which you would have to prostitute the 
profession of the law and disgrace the court. T will not be a 
party to it." 

Then the man flared up and intimated that there was a 
great difference between his own friendship or enmity. To this 
Mesick merely pointed to the door and said : 

"Get out. and do not stand on the order of your going, but 
go at once !" 

Half an hour later he looked up from his desk and said to 
his clerk : 

"I am mad through and -through at myself." 

"What for?" asked the clerk. 

And he replied: "That I did not kick that scoundrel out 
of this office and all of the way down the street." 

He lived sixteen years in Virginia City, then removed to 
San Francisco, where he died in 18^)7 or '98. He died worth 
only a few thousand dollars, though in a single case — the Fair 
di\-orce case — he recei\ed a fee of $200,000. 

The grievous thing is that such a man was never known 
outside the few who were close to him, when, had he had a little 
different nature, had he had more desire for selfi.sh glory, he 
might have stood with the very highest. Never on this coast. 
ne\er anywhere, was there a more clear-cut mind, a more ac- 
complished man in books and in his profession. While he min- 



264 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

gied with his fellow-men on terms of equality, he at the same 
time moved in a sphere of his own. He was a glorified scholar 
until the last. AMien the world got to be a burden to him, he 
could go to his library and commune with all of the great souls 
that had preceded him in this world, only when he read the 
great thoughts, they always haunted him ; a thought of his own 
was that what he read was not new, that such thoughts had 
been his familiars all his life. 

He should have gone to the senate from Nevada : he 
should have gone with Senator Stewart. That body would 
have recognized in a moment that a master had come, and the 
brightest of them would have fought shy of an encounter 
with him. 

He was surrounded by great souls, luit his surroundings 
were never what they should have been. He never could 
have found any array of intellects that he would not have stood 
a peer among; he never could have found a class of men that 
could have been his schoolmasters. His brain was acute; it 
either held all the knowledge in the world, or an open door to 
all the knowledge in the world ; and if his thoughts had been 
directed away from the fierce encounters which were met on the 
Comstock and led up into the heights of literature or of states- 
manship, he would have been at home. 

He died of bronchitis, and shortly before his death, when 
a friend bending over him sympathized with his great suffer- 
ings, and after the medical men around him had tried every 
way to soothe his pain, his friend spoke to him of his ap- 
proaching death. And he answered, with a faint smile on 
his lips : 

"Death will be a cure for the sufferings I am bearing 
now." 

We hope that rest has come to him and that in the sphere 
where his soul has found an abiding place, there will be con- 
genial spirits enough of the very highest, to take away from 
him all reeret that he was called so soon from the earth. 



GENERAL P. E. CONNOR. 

GEXl-RAL PATRICK EDWARD COXXOR was a 
very splendid soldier. He fought through three wars. 
Every moment of fifty years he held his life, fortune 
and sacred honor subject to his country's call. His best ser- 
vices were perhaps in Utah. 

It is said that the society which has the building of a 
monument to him in charge, is at work. Everyone in I'tah 
slnndd invest at least one dollar in the monument. Some men 
light when they have to; some men fight when a fight comes 
to them; now and then a man goes out after a fight. General 
Connor was one of the latter class. 

He was born near the lakes of Killarney in Keiry county, 
a spot which has some reputation in the world; and one of the 
things that it is renowned for is that there is not a living thing 
in that county — man. woman, horse, dog, chicken — anything, 
that won't fight. 

He was born there ]\Iarch 17. 1820. on St. Patrick's day. 
and when but a child he was brought bv his parents to X'ew 
^'ork City. 

When nineteen years of age, in 183^. the Elorida war wa^^ 
in progress. \Ye suspect that at that time he had no fixed 
idea of just where Florida was. but he heard there was a fight 
there and volunteered. 

He served in the army five years, to X'^ovember, 1844. 
I'.arly in 1846 he moved to Texas and when the same year the 
-Mexican war broke out. he joined a regiment of n>xas vol- 
unteers, of which Albert Sidney Johnston was colonel. He 
was the second volunteer officer mustered into service in that 
regiment, and he entered as a captain. 

He was in the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca dc la Palma. 
and was one of the immortal 4500 men who confronted Santa 
Ana's army of 22,000 men on that day of days at I>uena X'ista. 

He fought all day. although he was the first officer 
wounded in the battle. But that night he had lost so much 

18 



266 AS 1 Rl-Miair.F.R TUEM. 

blood that two of his coniraJos luul to lie close to him on either 
side throiii^h the night to keep him from dying- from eoUl and 
exhaustion. 

For his work on that day he was given a captain's full 
pension. 

Shortly after the war closed he passed through iMexico 
and reached California on January 22, 1S50. A little after his 
reaching there, great excitemenl was raised o\ er gold discov- 
eries on Trinity River. At that time it was believed that Trin- 
ity River llowed into the Pacitic. and acting on iluu belief. 
Connor w iih some naval ofiicers and sailors went up the coast 
to lind the mouth of Trinity Ri\er. Seeing a boat, they tried 
to reach it. Some were drowned in the breakers, the rest 
reached the boat that the\ had seen in the ofhng. and found it 
to be the Farragtif. They learned from those on board thai 
Trinity River did not empty into the sea. 

In the next spring Captain Connor tried again to leach 
the same stream, lie reached Humboldt Ikiy. cut a trail 
through the Redwoods and look his party at last to the banks 
of the Trinity River. With a small boat he learned the currents 
and eddies and shoals of Humboldt Ray. and iov awhile served 
as a pilot. 

In 1854 Captain Connor was married to Johanna L'onnor. 
then a resident of Redwood City, but who was a native ol" the 
same county the Captain was born in. 

In October of that year, he was appointed postmaster 
of Stockton. California. He was serving at the same time as 
adjutant of the Second brigade and C^aptain o\ the Stockton 
Blues. 

He lived a very rugged life in Stockton. That was a 
center of some very determined Southern men. Judge Terry's 
home \vas there, and there were a great many others ; and as the 
war drew near, the feeling ran very high, and Captain Connor 
was a mark of especial detestation by some of those men. His 
life w^as a hundred times threatened and he walked those streets 
day and night for two or three years when he was not certain 
that he would live a minute. I^ut he was always resolute for 
the government and the Union and courted rather than avoidetl 



GKXlikAL 1' I" rf)\\'f)R. 267 

(lanjTi'cr. He established and owned the Stockton waterworks 
and was drawing from that $8.rxX) a year and had a contract 
for building the foundation of the state capitol at Sacramento. 
He was released from that, however, by the legislature of 
1861-2. being ordered to report with his command. 

When the Civil war broke out he tendered his services at 
nee l<j the governor of California, who apjjoined him colonel 
>>i the Third California infantry. His command was stationed 
at I'enicia barracks, California, during the winter of '61 and 
'62, pending a transfer to Utah, where the command was 
ordered, to the great disappointment of the volunteers, who 
expected to be sent south. 

In May, 1862, Colonel Connor and his regiment, embrac- 
ing 850 men, consisting of the Second California infantry and 
four companies of the Second California cavalry, started on 
foot for Utah. 

He issued a bulletin to his soldiers when the march began, 
full of patriotic fervor and in splendid form. 

They marched over the Sierras, then on through Nevada 
to a camping place in Ruby valley. Here the men became v^ry 
restless — they wanted to go south. They offered all the money 
they had, .some agreed to forfeit all their pay if they could be 
permitted to go south, and Colonel Connor sent a petition to 
(ieneral Halleck, secretary of war, begging to be permitted to 
go and offering to pay their own passage from San Francisco 
to Panama. But they were ordered to continue on to Utah, 
and on the 24th of October. 1862, they marched through Salt 
Lake City, stopping while the band played in front of the house 
of the governor, and then marched on to the spot which is now 
the site of Fort Douglas. 

They were threatened with flestruction before they 
reached Salt Lake, but it made no difference. The threats 
came from no authentic sources and they continued their 
march. 

Tn February. 186."^. the Indians bein^r very troublesome in 
the Dear River country. General Connor took the main j)ortion 
of his command and marched up there. The weather was 
fearfully cold, dropping to ten degrees before they had been 



268 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

out a day. The command consisted of company K, Third 
infantry, Cahfornia vokmteers, Captain Hoyt, two howitzers, 
under command of Lieutenant Huntington ; twelve men of the 
Second Cahfornia cavalry, with a train of fifteen wagons, con- 
taining twelve days' supplies to proceed on the 22nd of Jan- 
uary; and the colonel himself followed with detachments of 
companies A, H, K and M, Second California cavalry; Sur- 
geon Reed, Third California Volunteers ; Captain McLean, 
and Price, and Lieutenants Chase, Clark, Quinn and Conrad, 
Second California cavalry. Major Gallagher, Third California 
infantry, and Captain Berry, Second California cavalry, went 
as volunteer aides, leaving Colonel George S. Evans in com- 
mand at Camp Douglas. 

They found the Indians in a very strong position, and 
after a fierce engagement of twenty minutes, finding it was 
impossible to dislodge them without great loss of life. Major 
McGary, with twenty men, was ordered to turn their left flank, 
which was in the ravine where it entered the mountain. Shortly 
afterwards Captain Lloyt reached the Bear river ford, three- 
quarters of a mile distant, but found it impossible to cross the 
men on foot. A detachment of cavalry was ordered to cross, 
and a little later Major McGary's flanking party turned the 
enemy's flank. 

Up to that time the Indians were under cover and had 
much the advantage of the fighting, and did fight with the 
ferocity of tigers. But the flanking party was ordered to ad- 
vance down the ravine on either side, which caused the Indians 
to give way. 

The fight commenced at 6 in the morning, and continued 
until 10. At the commencement of the battle the hands of 
some of the men were so benumbed with cold that it was with 
difficulty they could load their pieces. They suffered terribly 
during the march, and not less than seventy-five of the men 
had their feet frozen, some of them being crippled for life. The 
colonel bestowed particular praise upon Major McGary, Alajor 
Gallagher and Surgeon Reed, and indeed he had only good 
words for his whole command. Eighteen of his soldiers were 
killed, forty-five were wounded, and seventy-six confined to the 



GENERAL i'. E. CUXXOK. 269 

hospitals from beins:;' frozen, making the casualties one hundred 
and forty-three. 

It made peace with ilic northern Indians which was 
never after broken. 

Later in the war, wiien the colonel was promoted to gen- 
eral because of his services, he was offered a high place in the 
army, but he preferred with the close of the war to give up his 
army life to devote himself to mining. He mined in LItah and 
Nevada, and he continued his work up to within a few weeks 
of his death. 

He gave a detail of soldiers leave of absence to go pros- 
pecting, and they found the mines in Bingham. 

He died in Salt Lake City, and was given a splendid mil- 
itary funeral, with Colonel Rose in command. 

He earned the name of being about the best Indian fighter 
in the army. He was a fine soldier, but his |)atriotism was 
superior to all his other traits. He was one of those men who 
b.eld his life at the service of his country every moment from 
the time he enlisted in the Florida war until he laid down his 
life in this city. He did a splendid work in Utah. He was 
not very successful in business here, because his whole soul 
was that of a soldier. , 

Born in a foreign land, not much accomplished in the 
schools, coming to this country a poor emigrant, at the first 
call he offered his life, and that offer remained open until he 
died. From an obscure foreign-born boy. by his own merits he 
rose until the stars of a major-general glittered on his shoul- 
ders. He was a gifted soldier. His courage was immeasurable. 
His love for his adopted country was a grand passion. He 
did the work appointed for him to do perfectly, and he sank 
to rest with "all his country's honors blest." 



MARCUS DALY. 

MARCUS DALY graduated from the Comstock, took a 
post graduate course in LItah, then went to Butte, 
]\Iontana, to win his degrees. And he won them ah. 
I do not know his career before he reached the Comstock, but 
it was there that he first comprehended what a great mine was 
and Avhat great nn'ning was. He took it in fully, by actual prac- 
tice mastered every detail, and I suspect it was in the depths, 
down among the gnomes, that an unspoken determination 
came to him to rival the best that had been accomplished 
there, if he could but find a field big enough to expand in. 

He removed to Utah and did some fine mining in differ- 
ent parts of the state, and it was there he made the greatest 
strike of his life — he found and won the wife that was his 
life and light even until his final call. 

I think he contemplated securing the Ontario for a while. 
Had he, doubtless he would have been the inspiration and 
financially the king of Parley's Park, but the Ophir and Gould 
and Curry and Gold Hill croppings were in his thoughts, 
and he reasoned that a big mine must have a great outcrop, so 
he advised Craig Chambers to look after the Ontario while 
he went for the Walker Brothers to Butte to open the Alice 
Mine. 

There he grasped the outlines of the Anaconda mine and 
watched" all that was clone toward exploring it until his im- 
pressions of it deepened into conviction and then he obtained 
an option upon it. 

He knew George Hearst and through him Haggin and 
Tevis of San Francisco. He went to them and laid his plans 
before them, gave them frankly his belief that the mine would 
prove, when fully developed, a wonder of the world, but ex- 
plained that it was a long distance from cheap and rapid trans- 
portation and that to buy it, develop it into working form 
would require a good deal of money, a vast amount of .money, 
a mint of money, giving increased emphasis to each statement. 



AlAKLL'S DALY. 271 

Old man Hao:?:in. next to William Sharon, the shrewd- 
est and o^amest and boldest of all the then rich men on the 
coast, was impressed with the description of the property, bnt 
more impressed with the frankness and dash of Mr. Daly, and 
told him that the money he needed for a starter was ready for 
him. and when that was gone to draw for more and to keep 
drawing. 

Then the little chief returned to Butte and began lii-^ real 
work. 

I saw him there in 1881 and he .said to me that the world 
did not know it, but it would after a while learn that he had 
the biggest mine ever found. He worked on its development 
for two years, expending vast sums of money, and then wrote 
to Haggin and Tevis that he needed further funds, but 
that he would not draw for another dollar until one or both 
came to Butte and saw^ wdiat he had done with the money he 
had drawn, and what use he had for more. 

Mr. Haggin went to Butte and spent several days in exam- 
ining the mine and the contemplated reduction works, and 
then said : 

"Dalv, vou make me a vast amount of trouble. I am get- 
ting old. but you drag me up here, race me through your mine 
workings for days and give me your ideas of w^hat yet remains 
to be done, and the whole business w^as unnecessary. 

"The property is bigger than you led me to believe, which 
T suspected was the truth before I left home ; you have shown 
me where all the money has gone which I was confident T 
should find ; indeed I cannot see how^ you could do the work 
with so little money, and you tell me what is needed, which is 
clear enough, but I am no better satisfied than I was before I 
left home, and so all this work of mine has been useless. Here- 
after please keep in mind what I told you when we first began 
this enterprise : when you need money draw, and keep draw- 
ing." 

So the work went on and began to pay. Then there came 
a crisis. Copper began to fall in price and the percentage of 
copper in the rock began to decrease at the same time, until 
the margin of profit left after deducting expenses became most 



272 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

dangerously small. Moreover, the deeper explorations in the 
mine made clear that low-grade copper was thenceforth to be 
the rule. Something had to be done. Fortunately the ore 
bodies increased in magnitude. That gave Mr. Daly an idea. 
He said to a friend who was an old gold quartz miner : "If a 
five-stamp mill is running on five dollar rock, how much does 
it make a day?" 

The friend replied: "A five stamp mill ought to crush 
from twelve and a half to fifteen tons of ore daily. If the rock 
is favorable, it will crush fifteen tons. To mine and mill it 
generally costs from $2.00 to $2.25 per ton. If 90 per cent is 
saved that leaves about $2.25 to $2.50 per ton profit, or on 
fifteen tons $34 or $35 per day ; but everything has to be favor- 
able to produce that result." 

"Then if the ore becomes rebellious, or a heavy volume of 
water is encountered, or the machinery is faulty, there is not 
much left, is there?" asked Marcus. 

The friend replied : "Not much ; and often the most care- 
ful management cannot keep even." 

'T thought so," said Marcus, "but if the mine is big 
enough to produce 1,000 tons per day, how then?" 

"Wdiy, at least $1.50 profit per ton should be saved, which, 
you see, in a year of 300 working days, would mean nearly 
half a million," said the friend. 

"I thought so," said Marcus. 

That night he called in his mechanical engineers, and 
laying before them the outlines of certain machinery which he 
wanted for the mine and for the reduction works, asked them 
to bring him the estimate of what it would all cost as soon as 
possible. 

Then he said to Otto Stalmann, who was with him : "I 
want you to give me an estimate of what your expenses would 
be to go to Europe, visit all the copper reduction and refining 
plants there, which I take it will require a year's time, and see 
if you can find something through which we can work this ore 
cheaper and save a little larger percentage of copper." 

The next day Mr. Stalmann reported that he could not 
make the trip witli less than $2,000 or $2,250. 



MAklLS D.\1A\ 17 i 

In his iinpetuous way Mr. Daly swuiijo^ around t<» his desk, 
filled out a check for $10,000. and handing it to Stalmann. 
said: 

"If you go to Europe for the Anaconda company, keep 
in mind that you are to go as a gentleman. When that mune ; 
begins to run low. draw for more." 

The change of front in the working of the mine and at the 
reduction works. Marcus kept from his partners in San Fran- 
cisco, bearing all the expense himself until he made a success. 
"I did not know but it might fail," he said. 

There have been some marvelous triumphs in copper nrn 
ing vn^\ in the reduction of copper ores since, but it must not be 
forgotten that Marcus Daly was the C ilumbns who f.und th • 
first islands of the new copper world. 

When he had achieved that great success and had l)ec<>nie 
a copper king., his nature changed a little. He seemed t • be less 
patient under opposition and more arrogant in manner, espe- 
cially to those he was not fond of. though he was as generous 
as c\er ; as thoughtful for others as ever, but he began to be 
active in politics and impatient at op])osition. Then he looked 
around to gratify a longing that he had all his life been hug- 
ging to his soul. He w^anted the finest farm in the world and 
wanted to own the finest blood horses. He found the farm in 
Bitter Root valley and bought it. It contained more than 
20.000 acres. What he paid for it I do not know, but he must 
have expended from $2,000,000 to $3,000,000 in stocking it 
and making it perfect. In the meantime, if any blooded horse 
performed a great feat. Marcus purcha.sed him it the horse 
could be bought. He sent an agent to Hungary to purchase 
the great English blood-horse Ormonde, that had been jiur- 
chased and taken to Hungary. 

The agent bid for the horse as long as he dared, but a 
South American finally bid him in at $140,000. if we remember 
correctly, and the animal was sent to Rio. 

The agent returned and reported to Mr. Daly, saying: "i 
bid as long as I dared t<j, as long as 1 th(night you wmild ap- 
prove of my bidding." 

"But you i)ermitted a greaser to outbid \ ■ ai and t:ike the 



274 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

horse to South America after I had told you to buy him. That 
is not the way a faithful agent obeys instructions," said Daly, 
and turned away in disgust. 

The last time I saw Marcus he told me that just then his 
ambition was to have a Montana horse win the English derby. 

Many people thought he paid most extravagant pricey for 
some of his horses, but when, after his death, his stable was 
sold, the animals brought as much as he had paid for them. 

His clear judgment never failed him. ]\Iost of the horses 
are gone, but the farm remains, and a Montana man will tell 
you it is the finest farm in all the world. 

For many years he took an active part in advertising- 
Montana ; his only trouble being that he would bear no oppo- 
sition, and when fiercely opposed, his motto seemed to be "Mil- 
lions to carry my point, but not a cent for graft." 

He made scores of friends rich and rejoiced as much in 
their prosperity as in his own. In many ways, he was a most 
extraordinary man. A great strike was once threatened among 
his host of employees. To a committee that called upon him 
he frankly stated that he could not accede to their demands; 
that it would be unjust to his company. To this the chairman 
replied that in that case the men would strike. "Very well," 
was Mr. Dalv's answer, "that is your privilege in this free 
country, but remember that if you do, it will not be long until 
there will be much suffering among your men who have saved 
no money. When that time arrives, don't hesitate about calling 
on me. I will see that none of your wives or children suffer 
until the men can get work again. I have been a working man 
all my life and know how hard their lot is sometimes. I can- 
not grant your demands ; because it would be an injustice to my 
company, to the men who have invested millions of dollars here, 
and besides I am boss here and do not propose to divide my 
duties with you, but personally I will do all I can for those de- 
pendent upon your work." 

A\nien this was reported to the union it was decided that 
it would be bad business to strike on a man like Marcus Daly. 

He sold the mines and reduction works at last and meant 



MARLLS DALY. 273 

thereafter to live easy, but in the work lie had carried on so 
long his vitality had been well nigh exhausted. 

He had been a most material factor in the transformation 
of Montana. He had not been much disciplined in his youth, 
and he fretted at any opposition ; then, too, between his mighty 
success and the insidious disease that was even then creeping 
upon him, he became impatient and sometimes arrogant : gen- 
erous to a fault himself, anything like ingratitude awakened 
in him a fierce desire for vengeance, and he did some things 
which hurt Montana, but they weighed as nothing compared 
with the good he had done the state ; the unheralded and un- 
measured help he had been to scores and hundreds of his fellow 
men. 

He carried on a tremendous work there for years, out of 
a multitude of difficulties he finally wrought a magnificent 
success, but in the work he forfeited every chance to enjoy a 
peaceful old age, for he died just when he should have been in 
his prime. 

His death caused profound sorrow all over Montana; to 
this day there are hundreds of men who will tell, as the tears 
run down their faces, that there never was but one Marcus 
Daly; so great was he, so clean his life, so warm was his heart; 
so high his soul. 

When IMontana builds her hall of fame, in a sculptured 
niche where sunbeams will play upon it all the day long and 
weave golden halos around his brow, will be the statue of 
Marcus Daly. 



T 



JOHN ATCHISON. 

HE chief fault with John Atchison was that he had too 
much courage and energy. These traits are seldom 
charged against a man as faults, but in the case of John 
Atchison they were; for his daring and his faith in himself 
that he c^nuld by his native fierce dri\e anything through to 
success, caused him to make many failures. They swayed his 
judgment and often caused him to attempt the impossible. 

In 1849 he loaded his household goods ami gods on a 
wagon, somewhere in Illinois, if I remember correctly, and 
with oxen for a propelling power, started across the plains. 
Several other families fitted out the same way were in the com- 
pany. They drove through to Salt Lake valley, and stopped 
for several weeks to rest their livestock, and, so far as possi- 
ble, to exchange poor cattle for fresh ones. 

Then they started west again, taking the northern route, 
and struck the Sierras in the vicinity of Honey Lake. It was 
then A'ovember and ever}- dictate of prudence would have 
counseled them to camp there for the winter. 

But when told that it was but a little more than one hun- 
dred miles to the Sacramento valley, and as no winter snows 
had fallen, Atchison, who was the master ^\)\v\t of tlie partv. 
determined to push through. 

A man who had been stationed there to meet and direct 
emigrants advised them to take the Lassen Pass, since called 
the Fremont Pass, and they started. When over the summit 
and really not more than twenty miles from where storms 
change from snow to rain, they encountered a real Sierra snow- 
storm. The snow fell five feet in a night and the temperature 
fell to zero. 

Nearly all the cattle perished that night. There was noth- 
ing in their stomachs. When they could not longer stand they 
sank into the snow and the cold brought them speedv deaths. 
Mrs. Atchison saved her cow ])y taking her into a corner of her 
own tent. 



JOHN ,\'rciiiS()X. Ill 

'I'liere were women in every wagon and a good many 
children in tlie company. The memory rif that night was a 
horror to them all the rest of their days. 

When the morning dawned they threw away everything 
they had except what of clothing they could wear and such 
food as they could carry and pack on the few cattle left, and 
tarted on foot for the west. Fortunately the mountains on 
that side were precipitous and with every mile traveled they 
descended two or three hundred feet in altitude, and before 
night they had passed through the snow belt. Had they "tried 
the pass" r)ne day sooner they would have escaped the snow; 
had they delayed one day longer the chances would have been 
a hundred to one that the snow would have been their final 
winding sheet. 

Arrived at the Sacrament(j River, they could travel no 
further, yet it was imperative that they should move on. 

Packed on one of the oxen was a bale of small rope and 
some axes, augurs and other carpenter's tools. Under Atchi- 
son's direction the men felled some small trees on the river 
bank, cut and trimmed them, hewed off the rounded sides, put 
them together, lashed them with this coil of rope and pegged 
them with slats. They caulked them with rags of their cloth- 
ing and pitch from the trees and on this frail scow loaded 
the women and children, and "cast off." Frail as it was. it 
floated the company down to where they got help. 

I have stated the above to give an idea of the invincible 
^oul of John Atchison. 

He live<l nearly thirty years after that, but there was 
never a new mining camp found that he did not go with the 
first crowd to it; never an enterprise suggested that seemed 
too hazardous for him ; never a chance proposed that he would 
not take. 

Pie followed the trail in the early fifties to fiarden N'alley 
below Camptonville, located the valley, built a house there: and 
that was his home, while he followed placer mining for several 
\ears. 

He went with almr)st the first company to the Comstock : 
"made a stake" there, and then explored Nevada, Idaho, and 



278 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Utah, locating or bonding and selling mines until seized with 
an illness brought on by exposure, he died in Salt Lake City 
in the late seventies. 

It may be said that he never rested from the time he helped 
construct that unique raft on the bank of the Sacramento river 
until he died. His name was a household word over all north- 
ern California, and everywhere he was held as a man at once 
indomitable and irrepressible. 

When appealed to for advice on matters in which he had 
no personal interest, his mind was always strong and clear, and 
the counsel he gave was always shrewd and wise. 

But when intent upon some scheme of his own, he often 
failed in judgment; that is, he permitted his sanguine belief in 
himself to override it. 

Had he been born a thousand miles further west, he prob- 
ably would have been a trapper and hunter ; had he been born 
a thousand miles further east, he might have been one of those 
mighty men of affairs — a Vanderbilt or a Tom Scott, for he 
had the ability and his resourcefulness was inexhaustible. 

He was one of that class of men that no matter what his 
surroundings may be, he always gravitates to the top and is 
hailed as a leader. 

He might have been a John the Baptist except that he 
never would have acknowledged that a greater than he was 
coming behind. 

He was most sincere, and his highest dream was to make 
an independence for those he loved. 

The trouble was that he was not only ready to attempt 
anything that looked good to him, but he would pledge all he 
had that it would make good. And all the time he was carry- 
ing a host of decrepit friends and relatives. 

Thus he wore himself out and died before his time, with- 
out achieving anything that will last in the memories of men, 
when in truth thousands of men with not half his equipment, 
not half his courage, and not a tithe of his energy, have gone 
into the records as great men. 

On his monument should be embossed: "He died of too 
much energy and courage." 



JUDGE J. B. ROSEBOROUGH. 

IT IS with a solemn joy that I recall Jud,e^e Roseborou£^li. 
his stately bearing, without the slightest pride, but with 
a self-respect so austere and yet so gentle that all men 
understood by a glance that he was trained in a school where 
only gentlemen were admitted, and where no gentleman could 
lower himself to ever do an unworthy act or submit to an un- 
worthy imputation. 

He was southern born, in South Carolina. I think, but he 
was an Argonaut in California. He did not reach there until 
he was a finished scholar, and thorough lawyer. 

Xo one suspected the compass of his learning who was 
not close to him. It ranged over every field. Not a smattering 
of knowledge in a hundred directions, but a profound scholar 
and careful student to the end of his life. 

He was a walking encyclopedia of his own country in 
every way. All the stately figures in the political history of the 
country, or in the literature of the country were familiar to him. 
not only their acts and their triumphs, but their characters as 
men ; every question of importance that has agitated the coun- 
try he could tersly state both sides of ; all the different forms 
of government that the nations have tried, he could explain, 
all the classics were at his call when he wanted a simile or an 
illustration ; his word pictures of men, either as finished as the 
old masters or as cartoons, were delicious to listen to: he was 
equally as thorough in the sciences, from the stars above to 
the chemistry of earth and air — every thought was an illumina- 
tion. The old story of the man in London who took refuge 
under a bridge for half an hour in a great storm and engaged 
in conversation with a stranger and who went away declaring 
that the man he had met had told him everything in the world, 
nn'ght have applied to Judge Roseborough as well as to Ed- 
mund Burke. 

Xo man ever took a mniuing walk with judge l\i •■-».•- 
borough who did not come back the wiser. ICverything inter- 



280 AS I RE^IEMBER THEM. 

ested him ; he made everything interesting. To some boys who 
were preparing to dimb a certain tree, lie said : "Why are you 
going to cHmb that tree?" 

One of the boys replied : "For birds'-nests." 

Then the judge stopped and said : "You will find no nests 
in that tree. Look at the branches and the leaves! Do yni 
not see that they all grow straight uj) ; that none of them droop ; 
hence they cannot shed water when it rains. 

"The birds know that, know that were they to build nests 
in the branches, they would be flooded out with the first rain 
and perhaps their babies would be drowned; hence they never 
build nests in a tree the foliage of which furnishes no protec- 
tion for their houses." 

He was greatly interested in small boys, and would often 
stop them and ask them to show him the contents of their 
pockets, and \vas alw-ays ready to w^ager that if the boy was 
able to buy a knife he would have a knife, and would never 
fail to have a stick and a string, because a boy could mend 
almost any toy with a knife, a stick and a string. 

He said to a friend one day : "Why can I not raise alfalfa 
in Texas?" The friend asked him what his sub-soil was. He 
answered. "Clay." "And how deep beneath the surface does 
it he?" the friend asked. "About two feet," said the judge. "I 
suppose," said the friend, "the winter rains sink to the clay, 
can get no farther, and the sour stagnant water poisons the 
roots of the alfalfa." 

The judge was still for a moment and then said: "Don't 
tell anyone that I asked that fool question, for I knew better 
had I stopped to reason for a moment. Of course, that is the 
reason. Alfalfa is two-thirds water; where it has a chance it 
will go down twenty feet on a still hunt for water, but wants 
pure water, and when stopped on its downward way and 
choked by stagnant water, of course it is killed." 

He was a district judge in California for a good while. 

Late in the fifties he settled in Siskiyou county with his 
brother, who was likewise a lawyer. 

Then the people elected his brother judge, and the old 
judge began to settle his business prior to moving away. 



jrncF. J. 1'.. RosKr.(U>:orr,TT. 2si 

A friend lio.'irin<4' of it went to liini and asked liim wliv he 
was S'oing to give up his sjilenchd business and seek a new lield. 
I lis answer was: "After a few weeks my brother will be pre- 
siding judge of this district. Naturally, if here I would have 
to try cases before him. lie might sometime decide a case in 
my favor; then some one might say I won the case because my 
brother happened to be the judge. Then I should have to kill 
the dirty dog. and it is not worth the trouble." But he deplored 
the necessity which made it incumbent up(jn him {<> remo\c 
from old Siskiyou. 

There were old Shasta and the sister peaks; the roar of 
liie great ocean was but a little way west, and his soul was in 
perfect accord with every majestic display of nature. 

W hen a great electric storm was raging, his way was to 
go out into the storm and exultantly salute every lightning 
tlash and every thunder peal. 

He removed first to Idaho and a little later with Colonel 
Merritt for a partner, settled in Salt Lake City, opened a law- 
office and practiced his profession with great honor for a quar- 
ter of a century. He was intensely southern and justified every 
effort that the south made to establish an independent govern- 
ment; his thought being that if the cause was a righteous one 
in 1776. it was quite as much so in 1861. 

But he had a profound reverence for law. and the rule that 
prevailed in Utah up to the issuing by President Woodruff of 
the Manifesto. ke[)t his hot i)ulses throbbing with fever sjjced 
all the time. 

Still, to the rank and tile of tlic i)eople of the Church of 
Latter-day Saints his heart went out in profound sympathy. 

\\'hen Colonel Merritt became judge. Judge Roseborough 
did what he had di^ne in Siskiyou. He prepared to move. He 
found a great tract of fine land down near Aransas Pass. Texas, 
and joined by Judge Harkness and the late John O. Packard 
of Salt Lake City, they liiuxha.sed it and stocked it. 

It was a cape that jutted far out into the (lulf. so that a 
short fence at the upper end made of it. for sttick-raising pur- 
poses, an island. 

He removed there and remained several years, finally 

19 



282 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

selling out and realizing a large fortune for all the investors. 

While he was there a gentleman of Salt Lake City visited 
Texas and reported that the Texans held the judge as a mod- 
ern Socrates. He said also that a Texan, getting lost one night, 
rode until 4 a. m., when, seeing a light he went to the house 
and found it was Judge Roseborough's. The light was in the 
judge's library. 

He knocked at the door, and being answered by a "Come 
in," entered to find the judge by his table with Dante's Inferno 
in his hand. He had been all night absorbed in reading, never 
realizing that bedtime had passed hours before. 

The last I heard of him he had gone back to South Caro- 
lina. He must, a good while ago, have passed on. 

If he has. South Carolina has not one nobler grave than 
his ; so splendid was he in character and mind, so sensitive was 
he of his honor; so just was he as a man and citizen; so high 
were all his ideals ; so lofty was his integrity ; so brave and true 
of soul was he. 

Not many men in Utah understood or appreciated him. A 
state filled with such men would seem to every visitor what the 
Roman senate seemed to the visiting Greek — "an assemblage 
of kings." 

He was a great lawyer and jurist, he was a schoolmaster 
to all men who were fortunate enough to get into the inner 
circle of his confidence and friendship and while he was a resi- 
dent of Salt Lake, the average man of Utah no more realized 
what he was than did the man we read of realize who his 
guests were when he, unawares, entertained angels. 



JOHN PERCIVAL JONES. 

BORN in England or Wales, brought to the United States 
when five years of age, or, as he in jest was wont to 
say : "Not liking the customs of the old country, I left 
\\ ales at five years of age for the United States, and brought 
my whole family with me." 

He passed fifteen years in and about Cleveland, Ohio, at- 
tending the schools there ; then at twenty turned his face west- 
ward, graduated among the California mountains, and took 
his post-graduate course on the Comstock. 

A\^ho can give to those who never met him an idea of 
John P. Jones? 

He was perhaps five feet nine and a half inches in height, 
massive, weighing say one hundred and eighty pounds, ruddy 
complexion, with dark gray or black eyes, a face at once strik- 
ing, joyous, genial and commanding. 

He was a profound thinker, but this he was wont to keep 
masked except in the seclusion of his own library, among 
trusted friends, or when a few times in the senate of the United 
States he made clear to the great scholars there that they had 
never learned the alphabet of the language which was needed 
to make clear some of the deeper sciences of government or of 
the philosophy of money. He was generous as the sunbeams 
that come in the spring to drive the chill from the earth and 
clothe it with verdure and flowers; his afl^cctions were of the 
very deepest; his courage was equal to any test; and all the 
time his sense of humor was so exquisite, his conversational 
powers so wonderful that an hour with him when he was care- 
free was better than food to the hungry or medicine to the sick. 
His judgment of men was infallible. He once said to Senator 
T>odge of Massachusetts: 

"Senator. T have heard many of your speeches, have read 
all your published thoughts. It is a plea^^ure to me to tell you 
that you are an eloquent speaker ; that with your epigrams and 
metaphors, your logic and figures of speech and speaking the 



284 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

exact words needed to make clear your thoughts, it is a deHght 
to read your books. Only, Senator, you have never come down 
to earth. You don't know a blessed thing in the world of how 
a poor man goes to work to make a living and to feed his 
babies.'' 

Still, when in joyous conversation, he would frequently 
pronounce a dozen words that would make clear that a pro- 
found problem had been mastered by him in a way that settled 
it forever. He read much, and his range of reading co\'ered 
everything that was beautiful or deep or grotesque. He would 
have been at home with Aristotle or Socrates. He would have 
looked Julius Caesar squarely in the eyes and told him if some 
proposition of his was faulty ; he would have been perfectly 
at home with Curran or Sheridan or Bobbie Burns. Still the 
stalwarts, Conkling, Chandler, Morton and the others, leaned 
upon him as upon an immovable pillar of strength. 

His early life in the solemn mountains had its effect upon 
him as it does on all thinking people, for in the hills man grows 
close to nature. This supplemented with the depths of a great 
mine where in the darkness men search for ore bodies, is never 
outgrown. Such a man is not easily surprised and when the 
strain is over, disappointment after that is met with no emo- 
tion which is apparent to others. 

It was from that school that J. P. Jones emerged with 
honors and soon after was elected to the United States Sen- 
ate, and held the place for thirty years. He made but few 
speeches, one or two on the tariff, two or three on the silver 
question, as it was carried on from 1873 to 1893. Of those 
speeches it may be said they were never replied to. Other 
senators discussed the question, but* never essayed to answer 
what he said. There was a reason for this — they could not. 

When we consider the state of the exchanges between the 
United States and the Orient, to turn back and read what Sen- 
ator Jones said on that question reads like a solemn prophecy. 

In his first speech in the senate the experiment was made 
to bombard him with questions. It was not long persisted in, for 
the more questions that were asked, the more it was apparent 



JOITX PERC-I\AL JOXKS. 285 

that his kiiowletlge of his theme was tlie master's, that of his 
in{|iiisiturs was Ijut as a schoolboy's. 

I^'rom the first he drew to him in friendship and resjject 
those whose friendship and respect were most to he coveted. 

It ct)uld not have Ijeen otherwise. He had read all the 
literature that any of them had; his views were quite as high 
and ])ronounced as those of the most exclusive of them all, and 
still he was geniality itself and was at home everywhere; and 
everywhere when he asserted himself, he held the center of 
the stage. 

General Grant believed in him implicitly. Me was never 
very friendly with President Harrison, and we believe this was 
through a misunderstanding. President Harrison was thought 
to be cold and reserved. The truth is he was merely shy. Could 
the right man have introduced them and shook them both out 
into free converse, they would have been friends always. 

President Arthur leaned upon Senator Jones. I believe, 
more than upon any other senator. Senator Jones and Presi- 
dent Cleveland never af^liated. Senator Jones exactly 
appreciated President Cleveland; in return Mr. Cleveland 
never had the slightest idea of the nature of Senator Jones. 
Senators Conkling and Cameron were in love with the Xevada 
senator, and so was President McKinley. 

Senators are easily made, at least sotnetimes, but the 
rare thing is to find an all-around great man, one who would 
ha\e been great had no books ever been written. One who. after 
b(V)ks were written could read them, storing in memory all the 
gems of thought and discarding the rest ; one who was as great 
as the best, but who, while holding himself the peer of the high- 
est, had his ears open always to the right, and who could detect 
real manhood under the gray shirt of a miner as (luickly as 
under a senatorial robe. 

He spent a good deal of money in his first campaign, 
though he knew that his election was sure from the first. P)Ut 
it seemed natural to him to be generous to the men who were 
jovouslv working for him. 

Two anecdotes of that cami)aign may not be out nf place. 

In the free-and-easv wavs of the Comstock. a middle-a-ed. 



286 AS I REAIEAIBER THEM. 

grave and soft-voiced gambler called upon him, and proceeded 
at once to business. Said he: "J. P., I can control about a 
thousand votes in this coming election, but it will take some 
money." 

"About how much money?" asked the would-be senator. 

"As nigh as I can calculate, about ten dollars a head," was 
the reply. 

"But who are these gentlemen who desire to sell their 
votes?" was the next question. 

The sport replied : "They are quiet, low-down chaps that 
will never peach. An investigating court could not by torture 
get a word from one of them." 

"You interest me," said Jones. "But who and where are 
these voters?" 

"It has taken a great deal of work on my part to get 
them marshaled and all their names put down correctly," was 
the reply. 

"But who are they, and where are you keeping them?" 
asked Jones. 

Then the sport's voice grew more soft and insinuating 
as he said : "They are up in the burying-ground, J. P. I 
have been a month chipping the moss and syenite dust off their 
names and copying them." 

Jones told his visitor that he did not believe he wanted 
that kind of support, and the man, warning Jones that he was 
likely to be sorry at not acepting the offer, retired. 

A month after election, the candidate met the sport again, 
who said: "J. P., you had better reconsider the reward that is 
due me. You see I still have the chisel, and if I should ge' 
angry sometime after you are gone I could disfranchise you for 
all eternity." 

Colonel O., who was a native-born Englishman, but like 
Jones, a stalwart American, told Jones that in the mines there 
were a thousand English miners, and they wanted to organize a 
"Jones British Club," but they had no hall to meet in. 

Jones said: "All right. Find the hall, pay the rent in 
advance for six months, hire a band for every night up to 



Jul IX IM'IRCIVAL JONES. 2^7 

election day, have some refreshments on hand, and let the boys 
have a sood time. Come to me for what may be needed." 

The pr(\i;ramme was carried out and thin.e^s went (»n 
swimmingly up to election dav. 

Al)Out noon on election day ( ). came to Jones and told 
him that the dirty dogs would not vote until a large assess- 
ment which they had levied was paid. 

With a laugh Jones said: "Send word to them that I am 
awfully busy just now, hut \ will come down after a while." 
At about 3 p. m. they sent a messenger that they were waiting. 
Jones bade the messenger tell them he would be over in a few 
nn'nutes. A fresh shift of men were at the time coming out of 
the Belcher and Crown Point mines and hurrving tn take their 
places in line to vote. 

\\']ien that line was extended until it was clear it would 
take until the polls closed for them all to vote. Jones repaired 
to the hall. 

Mounting the little rostrum he said : 

"My fellow miners, I have taken great interest in your 
club from the first. When I see English-born men come to 
America, and see them after they have become familiar with 
the principles of our free government and understand the 
opportunities supplied here for true men, take on the solemn 
obligations of citizenship, I rejoice and say to myself. 'These 
are worthy descendants of those Englishmen who made I'^ng- 
land free and held her free when almost all the earth outside 
was lost in apparent anarchy.' And my comforting thought 
is that they will be as true to the land of their adoption as they 
were to the land of their birth. 

"These thoughts are what prompted me to help you in 
the formation of your club. It was not half so much to get 
vour votes, as because we all came from the same land, and 
while our allegiance here is equal to any native born Ameri- 
cans, we have beside the memory that it was our forefathers 
who. while conquering a peace for themselves, at the .same time- 
conquered what was crude and wrong and savage in their own 
natures and dedicated our England to order, to law, to liberty 
to progress and enlightenment. In the meantime, too, they 



jss AS 1 ui-:Mi:Mr>i- K nii'M. 

established a liioratiuo of their own higher than was ever 
hetofe toniuleil. On hwul anil sea for a thousand vears ihcv 
ha\e held their plaee, mitil the names oi her hen^es and sai;e> 
and seholafs make the bvij^htest list that ever the snn shone on. 

"An hundred years aj^o. when l-ai^land had inuvortlu 
citizens she transported those whom she did not han>;'. 1 am 
satisfied that had that stilt been the enstoni. not one o\ von 
would ha\e ever paid yom- own passaii'e monev to j;ci nwav. 
And now. askinj; yonr pardon for detaining >on so lonj;'. 1 
want to explain that the only reason that prompted me to 
eonie here today was to have the pleasnre o\ telling' the last 
rnother's simi of yon that yon ha\e m\ fnll permission to i^o to 
h — 1, and to hope that none o{ yon w ill he delayed in reaehin-:: 
yonr rig'htfnl destination." 

There was a rnsh to reach the polls to \oic aL;ainsi i\\c 
Jones leji^islatixe ticket. Inn it was too late. The whole hunch 
were shnt o\\\. 

lie went twice, if 1 rememher correctlw on intcrnatiiMial 
monetary commissions abroad, and held his place with honor 
amoni^- the world's foremost anthorities on finance. Not until 
past tour score did he retire to his estate at Santa Monica. 
California, to pas.-; ihc twilight o\ his life there. 

It was a most appropriate place. The world with its 
storms and heat and cold, its tierce winds and tempests, was 
all behind him. Refore him was the _L;reat ocean: its surges. 
freed from all their deep-sea tierceness and wrath, came rolliui;" 
in. brins.^"ing" in low mnrmnrs refrains from far o[( shores; 
bringing" to the weary man w hispers of peace, w hicli to the aged 
who are losing their hold on life arc what a mother's lulla- 
by is to the child just entering upon life, and st^ under those 
murmurs, in the soft air. from his peaceful surrouiulings there 
he passed to the deeper peace. 

lie lived and dicil an Iumiim- to this wesieru coast. 

Because of him the manhood o\ the coast was exalted in 
the world's estimation. 

In his own home, when he died, the light of the world 
well nieh went out. 



ALLEN GREEN CAMPBELL. 

AVICKV sterliiij^ man was Allen Green Campbd" ; there- 
are thousands of people in Ltah who knew him, who 
were familiar with him every day for years; but we 
\enture the belief that not one in two hunrlrerl of them all 
realized how true was his nuinhoofl. Iviw hi^h his soul. 

Could he. when he was j>oor, have been r^ff ered a fortune 
at the ex])ense of doinj:( an unmanly act, such as thousands 
would cheerfully do anrl esteem it as a shrewd busine:? trans- 
action, he wou'd have spurned it. 

An instance of this was shown when the Horn Silver 
mine was s'>!d. The company had ^iven a certain man a bond 
nn the mine. lie went to .\ew York and after awhile wired 
or wrote Campbell to come with authority to give a title to the 
mine, as it was sold. Mr. Campbell ()reparerl the necessary 
papers anrl went to Xew York. The day after his arrival he 
was ushered into a room where he found the principal sub- 
scribers to the purchase waitinj^ for him. 

Then one of those present said : "Mr. Campbell, we have 
atrreed to purchase the Horn Silver mine on the report that has 
been presented to us. provided you enrlor.se the report." 

The repr^rt was rearl to him. then pushed over the table for 
his endorsement. 

He pushed it aside and said: "I cannot endorse that 
report." 

".And why not?" was asked him. 

"Because," he replied, "it is not true." 

All looked disappointed, and tiie man who had obtained 
the (jption was paralyzed. There was an oppressive silence for 
a moment, when one of those present said: 

"What kind of a report would you endorse. .Mr. Camp 
bell' 

Campbell rejjlied : "Yours, if yini would but stick to the 
truth." 



290 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

"But I know nothing about mines or miners," said 
the man. 

"Well," said Campbell, "push your chair up to the table 
and let me make an expert out of you!" 

The gentleman laughingly assented, drew some papers 
and pens before him, and said, 'T am ready." 

Then Mr. Campbell told him to write what the surface 
formation showed, giving him the data sentence by sentence. 
Then he took him to the first level in the mine, had him write 
the length, breadth, and the assay value of the ore shoot devel- 
oped there. In the same way he went through all the levels of 
the mine, then he bade him put down the cost of mining, haul- 
ing and smelting, to make clear what the net value of the mine 
so far as developed w'as. 

Then he told him to reckon thirteen cubic feet of ore to 
the ton, to calculate the tonnage, then deduct the cost of min- 
ing and reduction and give the gentlemen present the result. 

The man was an expert accountant, and in five minutes 
gave the amount, which was some $300,000 more than the 
man with the option had figured out from his imagination. 
Then Mr. Campbell said : 'T will sign that report. You are 
about the only honest expert that I have met for six months. 
I will sign the report and guarantee that you will find the 
mine as stated, except that on the lowest level the boys were 
uncovering the ore chute several feet every day, and there wiH 
probablv be 100 feet more ore there for you than this report 
includes." 

Then all present took on a new idea of a western miner. 

Mr. Campbell was a great miner and an intense American. 
He was not a scholar in the usual sense ; but he would have 
been a close friend of Plato or Socrates had he lived in the 
generation of either of them, for he had reasoned out how- 
things should be from an intuition all his own. 

One day when a group of men were discussing the Chi- 
nese question, one of them turned to him and said : "Mr. 
Campbell, do you not think the Chinese should be kept out of 
our country, such a menace are they to poor white laborers?" 

Campbell waited a moment and then said : "The Chinese 



ALLEN GRLLX CAMPBELL. 291 

that come to our country are poor wretches, but they are men. 
The\- represent tlie results of thousands of years of want and 
suffering. They are grateful to work for a pittance and to 
do menial work. Could I have my way I would let them o )me 
and do that work and at the same time exalt American work- 
ingmen to places where the Chinese could not compete with 

them." 

He always meant to be absolutely fair, and justice was 
his insistance from childhood to the last day of his life 

At the same time he had some weights upon him. He 
never could outgrow some provincialisms and prejudices that 
were due to the environments of his youth, and could not 
always distinguish an honest man from a would-be grafter. 

He became accustomed to the control of a great fortune, 
but when he traded his Nevada farm for a small orange grove 
at Riverside, Cal.. he fixed his home there and told with more 
pride that he cleared $2,000 from it the previous year, than 
he ever e.xhibited when a mining transaction had brought him 
three hundred times that amount. 

He was one of the truest of friends. He and Mr. Matt 
Cullen of Salt Lake City were partners in the Horn Silver 
mine. To his dying day he always looked upon ]\Ir. Cullen 
as a brother. 

\Mien he accepted the nomination as a delegate to Con- 
gress from Utah, he did not expect or desire to hold the office. 
He ran merely to vindicate a principle and as a protest against 
what he looked upon as a defiance of law on the part of the 
majority here. 

There was much of the martyr in him. He feared noth- 
ing on earth except to do wrong, and he would have cheerfully 
faced death for wdiat he believed to be right. 

He left his early home with nothing except his faith in 
the invincibility of labor, backed by honest intentions. He 
became an accomplished miner and made a fortune, but there 
was not one stain upon one of the dollars he accumulated, or 
upon his life while he was accumulating it. 

He was a great-hearted man. and a patriot as true as wa- 
Reo-ulus. He was alwavs a reminder of Abraham Lincoln in 



292 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

the unfeigned integrity of purpose which controlled his life. 
But his hands and feet showed that he was of gentler stock 
than was Mr. Lincoln. 

Utah never realized how great and true a man he was, 
for he was utterly unpretentious and was never in a ])Osition 
where his real character shone out before the eyes of the peo- 
ple. He had within him all the elements of a great soul ; we 
do not believe that he ever himself knew how much of a factor 
for good he might have been. 

I one day heard a man ask him what his idea of serving 
God was. He replied : "To do what little good we can here 
for God's poor." That was one key to his real nature. 

He died too soon, but he met death as he had all the 
storms of life, with calmness and without fear. 



A. C. CLEVELAND. 

Tl IE Honorable A. C. Cleveland, while yet a boy. went to 
California from the state of Maine. California had a 
great many fiqhters at that time. Cleveland went to one 
<il" the sonthcrn counties where Hj:;hters abounded. Coming 
from Maine, they thought at first he was an easy victim. After 
six months he could not get a quarrel unless he forced it. 

His career in that respect always reminded me of S. S. 
Prentiss, who went from Maine to Mississipi)i. At that time 
everyone fought in Mississip])i. It was not long until Pren- 
tiss had (jccasion to fight a duel with he who afterwards became 
Senator Foote. He was. lame and walked with a cane. The 
second of Foote objected to his leaning on the cane while the 
duel was on. at which he threw it away, saying. "T r:\u ^^r]< 
Foote on one leg." 

Some boys had climbed trees nearby, and during the ])re- 
liminaries for the duel Prentiss looked up to them and said : 
"Boys, look out! Foote shoots mighty wild." 

But later Mississippi took Prentiss to its arms, and most 
Mississippi boys at this date believe that he was to the manor 
born in that state. 

^fr. Cleveland early went to Nevada, when Nevada was 
not altogether a Sunday School. In his early days he had 
some few little difficulties, but he learned later to restrain 
himself. 

His first business in Nevada was contracting, hauling tim- 
bers up from the flank of the Sierras to Virginia City for the 
mines. He had a contract with the Gould and Curry to sui)ply 
that mine with timbers, and had a good many teamsters in his 
employ, whom he paid every month. One pay day he went to 
the office to draw the needed money to pay his men, where- 
upon the clerk in the office said to him: "Mr. Cleveland, So 
and So, one of your teamsters, has asked me to hold out his 
wages that he may collect them here." 

Cleveland said. ".All right." But when he went awav. 



294 AS i REMEMBER THEM. 

thinking- over the matter, he became angry. The more he 
thought of it the more angry he became. The habit of team- 
sters was to go from Carson City up into the mountains, get 
their load of timber, and bring it down to Carson City ; then 
the next day haul it to Virginia City. 

Cleveland knew the hour when the teamsters came in and 
so went out on the road on foot to the outskirts of Carson to 
meet this particular teamster. He came in due time. He was 
not riding the near wheel mule, as was the custom, but was 
up on top of the load of timbers, ten feet above the street, 
driving the mules with a single rein, as was the habit. Cleve- 
land stopped him and said : 

"You got your money all right, did you?" 

"Oh, yes," said the man. 

"Well," said Cleveland, "do you know what I think 
of you?" 

"No. I haven't the least idee," was the reply. 

"Well," said Cleveland, "I think if you will come down 
off that load that I can whip you to a standstill in about two 
minutes and a half." 

"Is that so?" said the teamster. 

"Yes, it is," said Cleveland. 

"In that case," said the teamster, "I will be damned if I 
come down." 

This disarmed Cleveland entirely. Waiting a minute he 
looked up and said, "Well, would vou come down to take a 
drink?" 

"Why," said the man, "that is different." Whereupon 
they were sworn friends for life. 

The. writer of this had the honor of once sitting in a 
state convention in Carson City with Mr. Cleveland. There 
was a contesting delegation down from Virginia City, and 
the men who had charge of the hall stationed the two dele- 
gations on different sides. It was the old capitol building, which 
was built in the form of a cross. The delegations from Vir- 
ginia City were on either end of one arm of this cross, and 
the rest of the convention in the center between them. The 
contesting delegation got control of the convention and ])laced 



A. C. CLI':VKLAX1). 295 

Judge Hadyen of Dayton in llic cliair. The regular delega- 
tion was very angry. The contesting delegation was made up 
in great part of natural fighters. One of them, a distinguished 
one, took up his position in front of the speaker's desk. It was 
a clear case that Haydcn had been pronu'sed protection no mat- 
ter how he ruled. This particular delegate was named Riff 
Williams, or at least he was known by that name. He stoixl 
with his profile to the audience, the mildest-faced gentleman 
that anyone ever looked at; but he was indifferently picking his 
teeth with a fifteen-inch bowie knife which to some people in 
the hall looked ominous as it was a new tooth pick that they 
were not familiar with — as a tooth pick. 

As the proceedings went on, the anger increased. Hay- 
den was most arbitrary in his rulings and no appeal was per- 
mitted from them. When the crucial time seemed near I whis- 
pered to Cleveland, saying: "Cleve, when this row starts, 
which side are you going to assimilate with?" 

He whispered back, "I don't know. As I was coming 
into the hall someone dropped a derringer in my pocket, but 
he did not tell me which way he wanted me to shoot." 

The difficulty was finally quelled by a few humorous re- 
marks of an outside delegate. 

Clevc lived in Carson a good many years; married there, 
was elected to the state senate and made a fine reputation for 
his ability and his perfect fairness, and for the clear sagacity 
he manifested in handling all cases. Later he moved to White 
Pine county, bought a great tract of land and settled down to 
ranching and stock-raising. 

For this he was perfectly equipped, lie knew the busi- 
ness and was personally perhaps the best horseman in Nevada. 

He went to a friend one day and said : 

"What has against you?" 

The friend said: "I have no idea in the world. W'c have 
been good friends for several years in Xevada." 

'AVell." Cleveland said, "he is talking about you.'" 

"Well," the friend said, "he has no cause. I never had 
any business with him, none whatever, and he is either labor- 
ing under a mistake or he is just mean on general principles." 



296 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

Cleve went to the man and told him, and said : "I would 

not follow that np. because is not a bad man, and people 

here will believe him.'' 

But he kept u]^ his talk and a few days later was on a 
bender and met Cleveland in town. He said : 

"Come and take a drink." 

"No," Cleveland said. "I don't drink." 

The man. himself in his cups, rudely caught Cleveland by 
the shoulder and said : 

"Ah! None of that. Come in and have a drink." 

Whereupon Cleveland shot him through one arm. badly 
wounding him. A few days later the other friend said to him : 
"Cleve, why did you shoot ?" 

He said : "He talks too much. That's all." 

In a little while Cleveland's ranch became the stopping 
place for all passersby, partly because it was a great place to 
stop and partly because Cleveland had no charges for trav- 
elers at his ranch. He planted a great many trees. They 
grew rapidly and the birds from all over that part of Nevada 
came and made their happy homes in them. Cleveland gave the 
word that no gun should be fired around the place lest it 
frighten the birds. They must have heard of it. for with 
each year more and more birds came, until the concert from 
them — from lark, from robin, from oriole, from wren, and 
the rest — w-as a genuine oratorio from daylight to dark, and 
when the night came the sage thrashers and mocking birds took 
up the refrain and kept it up till morning. 

One day wdien Cleveland was absent, two or three hunters 
came along just at dark and camped. They had the hospi- 
talities of the home, the supper, the beds, the breakfast. In 
the morning they began to get out their guns. Celeveland had 
a Chinese cook whom he had had for many years, and the 
Chinaman became as much absorbed in the place as Cleveland 
himself was. Cleveland being absent, the Chinaman thought it 
his duty to look out, so he went to them and said: 

"What you do dem guns?" 

One of the men said : "We are going to kill some of 
these birds." 



A. C. CLEVELAND. 297 

The C'hin.-imaii replied, 'Wot inuchee. \ ou no shoot 'em 
birds." 

"Why can't wc shoot the birds?" said one of the men. 

"Vou shootee one dcse birds, old man he conic home he 
play hell with you !" 

They put u[) their guns. 

As Cleveland grew old. he grew more self-contained, 
but one day a man came along, stopped and got his dinner, 
and during the meal and afterward hurled anathemas at a cer- 
tain gentleman in Nevada whom he did not like. He finally 
wound up by wishing that the man was there that he could 
settle with him. 

"Settle how?" asked Cleveland. 

lie said : 'T would beat him to death if he was here." 

At which Cleveland said : "Do you know what you are 
saying? Do you know that that man you are talking about is 
something of a fighter?" 

"It does not matter. If he was here I would beat him to 
death." 

"\\'e11," said Cleveland, ''it is against my religious princi- 
ples to have a difficulty with a man — that is. any serious diffi- 
culty — but that man you are talking about is a friend of mine 
and if you are entirely sure that you are anxious for a fight 
today. I'll take the risk of getting in that friend's place.'' 

That was a different matter. The man lost his desire for 
a fight in a moment. 

He was for a long time one of the prominent men of 
Nevada, and once was a candidate for governor and should 
have been elected except that he was running against another 
man as popular as himself. Governor Sparks, and the major- 
ity was for Sparks. 

For a long time he acted as the attorney of the \'irginia 
& Truckee railroad to watch legislation in Carson, that nothing 
could be gotten through that was hostile to the road. 

Finally he went to Carson, when the legislature met. but 
was sei^^ed with a terrible cold, the day before the meeting, 
which swiftly developed into pneumonia. an<l he lay at death's 
door until the session was over. He returned l\v Salt Lake. 

20 



298 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

and was for a few days under a physician's care. I met the 
physician and asked him if Cleveland was all right, and he 
replied : "He is going to get up and go home, but he will not 
live three years. 

Two years later, one Saturday night, he went to a little 
house near his main residence, where the hired help con- 
gregated, asked the boys for a newspaper or two and went to 
the house. Within five minutes one of the boys followed him. 
He was sitting in a chair holding the newspaper, and with one 
hand on the table, evidently reaching for his spectacles. But 
he was stone dead. 

He was a man of wonderful ability, a man with a heart 
bigger than his breast; a man quick of temper, but just and 
generous to all. He was my friend, without a moment's dis- 
agreement, for forty years. He did as much as any other one 
man to make Nevada a state and to keep it glorified. There 
was hardly a man, woman or child in the state that did 
not know him ; there was not one who was not a mourner 
when he died. 



"JOGGLES" WRIGHT. 

I]; J Qy^y iiearcl his first name I have forgotten it. Then, 
were it pubh'shed. not many of his friends would know 
who was meant, for they knew^ him only as "Joggles." 
He always reminded me of a thoroughbred horse that had 
been jjrought up in a band of mustangs. He could outfoot any 
of them, out-jump any of them; he had more deviltry in him 
than any of them, but he was as fond of their comradeship 
as though they had all been of the blood royal. 

He was of fine stock, that was clear, and must have been 
trained at home in all polite usages, for when the occasion 
required it he showed that he was familiar witli all the rules of 
select society. 

But he must have run away early fnjm home, for there 
was always a vagrant, untamable side of his nature. He was 
from the south somewhere, Maryland, or more likely Virginia, 
for when he first appeared in Nevada, he quickly found he who 
was later Governor Bradley of Nevada, and being broke, Brad- 
ley instructed him in his duties, and gi\ing him a $200 shep- 
herd dog, set him to herding sheep. 

To give him such a place was on the same i)lane of wis- 
dom as that which had Paul Sheridan assigned to the (piarter- 
master's staff when the big war was on. 

Wright tired of the position within three days, and to vary 
the monotony, kettled the dog "just to see him run." though 
the dog knew more about herding sheep than Wright ever 
learned. 

He went to Belmont and engaged to work as a miner. 

Whether he had known the l)usiness before or not 1 do 
not know, but he soon became an cxjiert miner, then a foreman, 
then a superintendent. He (piickly showed that he not only 
understood mining, but further, that he understood mines, and 
where ore bodies were liable to make good, and how to reach 
them. Moreover, he swiftlv demonstrated that he knew how to 



300 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

handle men, how to get full work from them, and at the same 
time hold their respect and gain their affection. 

When he began to earn more money than he ever had 
before, he began to look carefully at every horse that came into 
Belmont, on the pretense that he wanted a saddle horse. 

At last he found one to suit him, bought it, and was seen 
liding the horse out of town for an hour or two daily. 

A race-horse man came into Belmont one day and an- 
nounced a desire to run his horse 600 yards against anything 
that Belmont could produce. Wright paid no attention to him 
the first day, but the second day, when the stranger offered 
to run his animal at five to four against any horse that could 
be produced, "Joggles" closed with him on a $500 race. 

"Joggles' " horse was badly beaten, for the stranger had 
a really great horse, and "Joggles" financially was where he 
was when he first entered the camp, except that he still had 
his horse. He did not mind the money loss, but his pride was 
badly shattered. 

When he arose next morning he went to the stable and 
had his horse brought out. He looked him over, and expressed 
the belief that his judgment had not erred, that he was satis- 
fied his horse only lacked confidence in himself: that if such 
confidence could be built up lie was sure he would make a 
four-mile racer. 

Then he proceeded to give the horse confidence. He found 
an empty can in the stable and made a hole near the top of 
the can, tied a rope in the hole and the other end to the horse's 
tail. He got some pebbles and put them in the can ; and striking 
the flank of the horse with the flat of his hand, at the same 
instant whooped at him like a Comanche. 

The horse sprang forward, and feeling the attacliment 
and hearing the rattle of the pebbles, dashed down the main 
street in a frenzy of fear. 

"Joggles" danced for joy, shouting like a lunatic. "Dichi't 
T tell you he could run if I could only give him confidence?" 

When his hilarity subsided, he said he would make the 
stable man a present of the horse, if he could catch him, and 
thereafter went on foot to and from the mine. 



"jo(;gles" wRKiirr. 301 

After he left Belmont he bought a small band of cattle 
and was camped with them near the sink of the Carson. One 
morning- his head vaquero explained to him that the camels 
that had been packing- salt from the salt beds near the sink to 
the Virginia City quartz mills — silver mills use large quan- 
tities of salt in reducing ore — were on the range about twqnty- 
hve miles away; that old Brigham, the patriarch of the herd, 
had a mane four feet long; that they could go over there, 
throw a rope on him, shear off his mane and from the hair 
make two fine lariats. 

So. next morning they saddled their horses, rode to where 
the camels were, dismounted, re-cinched their saddles, and the 
vaquero urged his frightened horse — horses are afraid of 
camels — near enough and threw his lariat over old Brigham's 
head before Brigham realized what was intended. 

But it happened to be just that season of the year when 
Brigham was sure that he was lord of all he surveyed. When 
the lariat began to tighten around his neck, he did not wait, 
but turned, and with mouth open and ears back, started for the 
horse. That animal, wild with fear, turned and sprang into a 
run. The vaquero cut his lariat at the saddle and tied for his 
life, while ''Joggles" filled the air with shouts of laughter. 
The camel chased the vaquero a mile and then returned to his 
family, still proud, but disappointed that he did not overhaul 
the man who dared to throw the rope on him. But he had the 
rope to show as a proof of his valor. The two men readied 
home at 10 ]). m., tlie vaquero bewailing the loss of his lariat. 

Three or four years later a newspaper published that the 
camels had been returned to Arizona and were running wild. 
A friend seeing the article, asked "J^fffflc^" if he did not 
believe it would be fun to hunt wild camels. "Joggles" ex- 
])ressed doubts, but admitted that it was great fun to see an 
ruigrv camel hunt a man. 

When Johnnie Skae gained control of the Sierra Xevnda 
on the Comstock. Wright was appointed sui)erintendent. He 
sank that wonrlerful incline, all in ore, twelve hundred feet. 
and made the short cross-cut in ore and every one believed it 
was a greater bonanza than that of the Con-Cal \'irginia. It 



302 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

was but a pipe of ore ; a thousand men lost their fortunes in the 
stock, but it was a wild dream while it lasted. 

The Sierra Nevada ground is four miles north of Virginia 
City proper. Wright kept a saddle horse to go to town and 
return. One morning, as he was going from the hoisting 
works to the office, he met his secretary — one Ford — coming 
from the office. As they met, "Joggles'' said, "Which wav. 
Ford?" Ford replied that he was going to town. "On foot?" 
asked "Joggles." Ford said yes. "Why don't you take the 
horse?" asked "J<^ggles." Ford replied that he wonld like to if 
the horse was not going to be used. 

"^^dly, certainly, take him ; the loafer is eating his head 
off. What is the use of walking?" said Wright. 

Ford saddled the horse and rode away. He returned three 
or four hours later. He was a big man, an athlete, six feet 
tall, and weighed two hundred ponnds. but as he entered the 
office where \\"right was sitting, his lips were white. He 
showed three (^r four contusions on his face, and was trem- 
bling like a frightened girl. Looking up, "Joggles" exclaimed : 
"Why, Ford, you look demoralized. Did you have a scrap 
down town?" 

"No, no scrap," said Ford, "but at tlie highest place on the 
grade that horse of yours suddenly turned, jumped oft" the 
grade, bucked to the bottom of the ravine and tossed me on 
a pile of rocks." 

"You don't say so!" said "Joggles." "Whv, confound him. 
we will sell him; he did the same trick with me yesterday." 

But poor \\'right. He burned his candle at both ends. 
He would work all day, run with the boys all night and be 
back to work next day as though nothing had happened. He 
was a leader everywhere, no matter what strata of humanity 
he happened to come upon. 

Suddenly one day he collapsed. One physician was sent 
for ; he sent for another and one of them was obliged to tell him 
that he had but a few days, perhaps but a few hours, to 
live. He received the news in his old, careless way, saying : 
"If it was measured up maybe I have lived out my full three- 
score vears and ten." 



"JUGGL1-:S' WKK.Ili. 303 

The morning before he died Judge I'elknap iJent over hini 
and said. "Wright, you ought to pull through. Vou do not 
look like a <lying man." To which lie rei)hed : "I do not 
seem to feel like one, but those doctors say they have a corner 
on me." 

1 saw him three hours before he died, llis mind was ram- 
bling, but. turning his head wearily on the pillow, he said: 
"Hurry, for the boys are having a hard time (Ir)wn on the 
sixteenth level." 

The air of Nevada is still filled with echoes of him. His 
courage was perfect: his generosity of the frank and joyous 
kind: he was like Brinsford Sheridan, if he could not help a 
friend up. he would lie down beside him. He was careless 
what kind of a crowd he was in. but at the same time he had 
an independence of character which caused him to hold him- 
self the peer of the very highest. 

He had ability enough to justify him to aspire to the 
highest places, but he did not care for personal honors ; he had 
neither social nor political ambition: his sense of humor was 
limitless: he had little reverence, and would have fired a joke 
at the Archbishop of Canterbury: when he was superintendent 
of a great mine, he would leave his work any time to seize the 
rope of a fire engine running to a fire, all the way yelling : 
''Jump her! Jump her. boys!" His animal si)irits were in- 
exhaustible ; he struck Nevada when that state was a central 
station for the world's sensations: he had no more self-control 
than an unbroken colt: he lived fifty years in fifteen, and was 
no more disciplined on the last day than when he kettlcd his 
own horse to see him run. 

All the time he had no enemy except himself. This life 
to him was a place to have fun in, and at last he cast it aside 
as carelesslv as he had used it all his davs. 



MOSES KIRKPATRICK. 

BORN in Kentuck}' in 1829, educated in an Indiana col- 
lege, and then a three-years course in the Louisville, 
Kentucky, law school, he went to St. Louis a partner 
with the great Blair family of lawyers. He practiced there 
until the "call of the wild" from California drew him west. 

My recollection is that he was, so to speak, an aristo- 
cratic emigrant. Others drove oxen attached to red wagons. 
He engineered a mule team and his wagon was blue with red 
fretwork on the box borders. That "fretwork" is more appro- 
priate than ordinary mortals can understand, for there was a 
good deal of fretting in those emigrant trains. There was a 
great deal of labor attached to it, and then there were other 
features to try the nerves of men and women. The awful still- 
ness of the desert is something which, after a few days, gives 
the one who has borne it a sense of relief to hear some over- 
worn teamster consign his team to perdition in a language 
which is an improvement over that which "our army in Flan- 
ders" used. 

Then after the silence of the day, the voices of the night 
come, for wolves "bay the moon" as well as dogs, and the 
owl's hoot, coming to the ears of a half asleep man, fills his 
brain with visions of a mighty bird of prey that is swooping 
down to carry off his team, his wMgon and himself. 

I recall that once I stopped at old man Phillips' Peoria 
hotel, fourteen miles from Marysville. 

The old man drank a little in the forenoon, ate his dinner 
at 12 m., then slept for an hour, and then drank a little more 
to be ready for supper. I was young in those days, and while 
waiting for dinner the old man was looking me over. In the 
language of that day, he was "sizing me up." 

Finally he said : "Young man, how long have you been 
in this country?" I told him. 

"Cross the plains?" was his next question. 

I said, "No; I came bv steamer via Panama." 



^[()SI-:S KIKKPATKICK. 305 

"Well, you don't know anvthin.l,^" was his response, and 
continuing- he said : "I lived with my wife twenty-five years and 
thought I had got acquainted with her, but we had not been 
out a week from home on the way here until I found 1 had 
never had an introduction to her. I had fixed up a fine wagon, 
had it covered with all care, then had a fly put over the cover 
to chase the heat away. 

"I drove the oxen, my wife sat under the double cover, 
for all the time I was getting the (nitfit ready, my thou'^dit was. 
'I must make the old lady as comfortable as possible." 

"But the fourth day out 1 halted the team at sundown and 
began to make camp. 

"Then my wife put her head out from l)eneath t'le wagon 
co\ er and said : 'Are you going to camp here ?' 

"I to'd her that I thought I would, whereupon she re- 
marked in a high soprano voice that 'It is the meanest ])lace 
I've seen today. Why didn't you camp over there?' 

"Things grew complicated more and more for a week until 
one day T said to her: 'Mrs. Phillips, you are my wife and it's 
all right, but if you were not m\- wife. T would' — T stop])ed 
right there and went after the oxen just to work oil my steam, 
and T had 'em on a gallop in a minute." 

Reaching California, Kirkpatrick opened a law oftice in 
Camptonville or Downieville. There were some great lawyers 
there — 'Jdiornton, Stewart. Rising, Meredith, Taylor, Dunn. 
Hawley.a splendid array of wonderful young lawyers, but from 
the first Kirkpatrick was up in the front rank and soon made 
a state reputation. He served one term in the legislature, and 
was on the direct road to political preferment. 

lie went with the others to the Comstock, and the law 
firm of Stewart, Kirkpatrick and Rising was soon leading. 

As explained elsewhere, the Comstock at first was found 
pitching to the west. The great lode is high on the mountain 
side at the base of Mount Davidson. All the way down the 
hill to the east for a third of a mile the hillside was covered 
with strata quartz, and all these were located, some of them 
three deep. 

The lode pitched to the west, and as great an authority 



306 IS T REMEMBER THEM. 

as Professor Sillinian said the heart of the lode would he found 
under Mount Davidson. 

But b(~)th Professor Stewart and Professor Clayton dis- 
agreed with that theory, declaring that there must be a fault 
somewhere, that the natural pitch was to the east, \\dien a 
depth of about 200 feet was reached the ledge gave out. Sink- 
ing a few feet and then drifting east a few feet, it was found 
again, pitching to the east. 

ddien the cjuestion at once arose : Who owned the ground 
the surface of which had been located? It was finally decided 
that the men or company who owned the apex of a lode o\^■ned 
it in all its dej^th, no matter where it led. But it recphred years 
of litigation to establish that rule, and some of the cases in- 
volved millions, .such fees were paid as were never heard of 
before, which brought such an array of legal talent to the 
Comstock as w^as never previously seen in so small a place. 
Among their names Kirk]iatrick"s was in the front rank. At 
one time he left Nevada for a couple of years, but the spell of 
the place drew him back. 

The crash of the Sierra Nevada mine broke half the coast, 
and Kirkpatrick was one of the victims. He removed to Salt 
Lake City, then was engaged by the late Marcus Daly to go to 
Butte. Montana, to look after the great Anaconda legal Inisi- 
ness. He went to Ohio to try one mining case, and his hand- 
ling of it evoked the surprise and admiration of the foremost 
lawyers of that state. 

Three or four years later he visited Salt Lake City on 
business, was seized with illness about 5 p. m., and died at 
10 a. m. next day. 

He was one of the great lawyers of the coast, one of the 
foremost men. In his home he was the most devoted hu.sband 
and farther; we doubt whether he ever uttered a cross word 
there. 

The grief over his death still lasts, though it is more than 
twenty years since he passed away. He helped lay the founda- 
tions of three states ; for forty years he was a power on the 
west coast, and he went to his grave covered with honors, and 
without one reproach following him. 



"ZINC" BARNES. 

I15I'^LIE\'IC his initials were S. C. but they soon dei^en- 
eratecl into "Zinc," and that is the only name that thou- 
sands ever knew him by. I have before now written of a 
good many gentlemen of character. Zinc's character was in 
the main fine, but there were holes in it. He was a royal 
friend, so true that I fear had a real friend needed something 
Zinc would have got it for him: and had his own finances 
been in borasco. he. by the enchantment of his reasoning, would 
ha\e drawn it from the opulence of others. 

His initial venture in Nevada in one of those first two or 
three hard winters was on a ranch above Carson City, where 
there was some timber and a little grass. 

It may be said that Zinc did not obtain the ranch for the 
purpose of improving it and making a homestead of it, but 
held it to wait for the boom which in those days always came 
in the spring, when sometimes it was easier to work a "sucker" 
than a ranch. 

The former owner had built a dugout to live in; tliat is. 
he had ''cut out a station" on the side hill. i)ut up some logs 
on the sides and covered it with poles. On these was piled 
brush, and some earth which he had. packed down with his 
shovel. 

When in Carson someone asked him if he had a hou.se on 
his ranch. He answered : "Why certainly." "Tell us about it. 
Zinc!" was ne.xt demanded. "Why." replied Zinc, "it has 
rustic sides, for that is my taste, a beam roof, for I always 
admired beam roofs, even if costly, but I have no donr. rather 
T have hung before it a piece of rare old tapestry to remind 
me as I go in or come out of my mother, for she had a passion 
for rare ta|)estry." The questioner walked away, whereupon 
Zinc turned tf) Joe Farren and asked him if he had a large 
dollar which he could loan on unquestione<l security. I was 
told that the tapestry which made the door was manufactured 



308 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

out of two gunny sacks, which is certainly as plausible as was 
Zinc's tapestry story. 

When the country around the Comstock was pretty well 
located, a young man one day pointed out to some companions, 
that the range in which the Comstock was located was cut in 
twain by the Truckee river and the mountains north of the 
Truckee had never been explored for mineral indications, and 
proposed to organize a prospecting party and prospect up and 
down that range. The proposition was at once approved and 
a party of fifteen or twenty young men started out from about 
where Reno now is. All were riding small mustangs except 
Barnes, who was mounted on a very tall and long mule and a 
mule with a wnde reputation for its indisposition to indulge in 
\'iolent exercise. 

As they were riding along the first day the question of 
food was sprung, whereupon Zinc explained that man)- things 
which were really good food were ignored through a foolish 
prejudice. "For instance," he continued, "there are few dishes 
more dainty and wholesome than a broiled rattlesnake." He 
was laughed to scorn, but insisted. 

They descended from a low hill into a small grassv valley 
with a clear stream running through it, where they deter- 
mined to camp for the night. Their coming started up a score 
of fat rabbits and the boys shot a dozen of them. One of the 
boys ran upon a big rattler in coil and shot his head off. This 
was skinned and cooked in a separate frying pan and laid in a 
roil before the tin plate of Barnes. But amid the railing of 
the crowd Zinc insisted on eating rabbit. When he had finished 
'^e lighted his pipe and when all was still suddenly broke out 
with : 

'T still insist that when a man needs an appetizer there is 
nothing finer than a cooked rattler, but after riding all day a 
man does not need an appetizer, and so can choose what to 
eat. and under such circumstances the man who does not choose 
rabbit is ofif his base." 

When the country began to have a mineral look, they all 
dismounted, one man led the animals and the others spread out 
on the hillsides prospecting. In that way they continued to 



"Zixc" i!.\k.\i':s. 309 

wander further and further north, w hen one day they ran upon 
a hand of renei^ade Piutes ur Modocs in their war paint. The 
hovs ran to their animals, sprang- upon them and beat a retreat. 
But Zinc could get no speed out of his mule and he called to the 
others. "Hold on. boys ! Hold on ! There is only a little band 
of tliem. We can lick them easily."' 

But his cries were unheeded. Suddenly an arrow aimed at 
Zinc fell a little short and struck the mule just beside the mule's 
tail. This aroused the mule, and seeinq- or scenting- the sav- 
ages, he laid his ears back and started at a pace which soon 
•vertook the mustangs. 

As Zinc swept by his companions he cried to them : "Come 
on ! Come on ! You sons of guns. If there is one Indian after 
you there's a million." 

He held ever after, that the point of view was everything 
-ometimes. 

.After awhile Zinc bought out the title of a man wdiose 
claim lapped over on Bonanza ground, and his was the oldest 
title. 

Zinc demanded possession of the ground and an account- 
ing, and being refused, began suit. 

He enlisted the services of a brilliant lawyer, and no case 
vas ever better prepared or presented. 

It was tried in the federal court. Judge Saw^yer of San 
Francisco presiding. 

^^'hen the hearing was over and it came time to charge the 
jury, the judge descended from the bench, went and stood in 
front of the jury and for half an hour expounded the law in a 
wav which was an astonishment to all that heard it. 

Zinc listened until the close, then turning t(^ his law^ver. 
>aid : "Sawyer is a perfectly unbiased, unprejudiced judge, 
is he not?" "Why do you ask?" was the reply. "O. nothing 
much." said Zinc. "I was only thinking that if that is an un- 
biased opinion, what a splendid attorney he would make if 
he were really interested on one side of a case." 

Zinc finally drifted across the country from Pxxlie to 
Pioche. 

When Zinc reached Pioche his services were needed. The 



310 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

great trial was on between the Raymond and Ely and the 
Meadow valley mining companies, and some people thought 
that Zinc had a sort of hypnotic power over a jury. 

It was there that he gave voice to his idea of an honest 
man — "a son of a gun who will stay bought." 

The air of Nevada is still filled with the echoes of his 
quaint and terse sayings. 

He had the exact estimate of every man he came in con- 
tact with and could write a full biography of many of them in 
an epigram. He w^as an all around genius, but had no terminal 
points ; no fixedness of purpose, no apparent care for what hap- 
pened the day before or what would happen the day following. 

Thousands of men with less ability have made for them- 
selves fortunes and high names, but he seemed to care for 
neither. He looked upon life as a game, and that to lose was 
no sign of want of ability, but a want of luck. 

He looked upon life as a game, and that to lose was no 
sign of want of ability, but a want of luck. 

He died a painful death in Idaho, but those who were 
with him said despite his great sufferings, his quaint remarks 
lingered to the last, and he died just as he had lived, looking 
upon death as merely a gateway beyond wdiich there was an- 
other land to explore, but from which the point of view would 
be everything. 



GENERAL THADDEUS H. STANTON. 

H]\ was a major wlieii i knew him first, lie made his 
head(|uarters at Salt Lake City during the years that 
Major (Icneral Alex. McDowell McCook was sta- 
tioned at Fort Douglas. He had all the elements of a great 
soldier; he was a perfectly equipped great citizen. When he 
reached Salt Lake he bore the name of "Crook's fighting pay- 
master." 

That came from the fact that during all the years that 
General Crook was fighting the Indians on the frontier, when- 
ever a fight was on. it was Stanton's fashion to forget that he 
was paymaster, and taking a gun went into the ranks with the 
regular infantry and fought so long as any Indians were in 
sight. Of course the soldiers all swore by liini. lie did not 
do it because he loved fighting, but he had a theory that if in 
a fight with Indians, other things being about c(|ual. the 
white man can hold up steady for a few minutes, tlie red man 
will give way; and his presence in a company, his ])resence and 
words of cheer, and the absence of all fear on his part, were 
calculated t(^ hold the men up into the fight, when otherwise 
a ])anic might have come upon them. 

His general bearing was that of a light-hearted, jovial. 
kindly man. Only a few of us knew how fine a scholar and 
jjrofound a thinker he was. or how intense was his patriotism. 

When stationed in Salt Lake he made frequent journeys 
to all the military stations in this intermountain region, to pay 
off the .soldiers. Once he went to Fort Washakie in northern 
Wyoming in midwinter. From the railroad station at some 
point in Wyoming — Rawlins, I believe — the trip was by stage 
some inO miles, and the thermometer showed over .SO degrees 
below zero. 

When he reached the fort the officers all e.xerted them- 
selves to minister to him and make him comfortable. When at 
last he had been ser\e(l with a hot meal and was fairlv warmed 



312 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

through, some of the officers asked him if he had not nearly 
perished in the intense cold. 

He assured them that while the air was a little bracing and 
might have seemed really cold to boys — there were several 
young lieutenants stationed there — it was just wholesome to a 
veteran. This bantering went on until some of the young- 
officers told him that he was born before the real tough stock 
of Americans had appeared; that old chaps like himself had 
not the constitution to stand a real endurance test. To this 
Stanton replied that it would be easy to demonstrate that right 
then. At \A'ashakie there is a big hot spring, the waters of 
which below the spring are caught in a pool ; so Stanton pro- 
posed that they all go down and take a bath in the spring. 
Half a dozen of them accepted and disrobed as Stanton 
did, went into the pool, then out, naked, following Stanton, 
left the water and lay down on a snow bank close by, and 
repeated this three or four times. It is the wonder of the 
world that it did not kill them all. When the young officers 
got warm enough to talk, they admitted that possibly a few 
tough men might have been born before the stalwa-rt age 
came in. 

When here the major always dressed in plain clothes or 
undress uniform, except when it was pay day at Fort Douglas. 
Then he was always in full uniform and on such days, while 
he had on that uniform, no persuasion could induce him to 
enter a saloon. 

With him the army of the United States represented the 
glory of the republic, the flag it bore was a standard so sacred 
that all those in whose immediate custody it was entrusted 
should always, when on duty, show that their lives were con- 
secrated to its defense — "their lives, their fortunes and sacred 
honor." His loyalty was something beautiful to see. The 
president of the United States was his commander-in-chief, and 
if any one in his presence had aught to say in criticism of him, 
Stanton would walk away. 

But he was just as loyal to friends, ^^^^en Mr. Cleve- 
land was elected president, he sent a gentleman to Utah with an 
ap]:)ointment as surveyor general of the territory. He was a 



GENERAL TIIADUiaS IJ. STANTON. 313 

finely educated and accomplished gentleman, a kindly man 
withal and on his arrival at Salt Eakc wanted to be on good 
terms with all the people. But he evidently had never been 
west and he brought with him a somewhat narrow provin- 
rirdism. 

Me was met on his arrival by Mr. Barratt. a i)romincnt 
Democrat, who naturally invited him to the Alta club and 
introduced him to the gentlemen there. The call lasted perhaps 
fortv minutes, when Mr. Barratt escorted him to his hotel. On 
the street the new surveyor general suddenly turned to Mr. 
Barratt and with mingled surprise and gratification, said: 
"Barratt. do you know that from that hasty visit I would judge 
that 60 per cent of those gentlemen in the club, in intelligence, 
would average very w^ell w^ith the men of Illinois.'' 

Barratt, himself an old Baltimore thoroughbred, left him 
at the hotel and then went to find Stanton. 

To him he recounted what the new federal appointee had 
said. 

Stanton listened and then said: "This is serious, Bar- 
ratt. I must think it over." He took the first ciMiveyance 
for Fort Douglas and told General McCook. "You are sure 
he said it, Stanton?" said McCook. Then he made a brief 
oration, made up in great part of compound adjectives. 
Finally he said : "Next Thursday is Jackson day. It is only 
fair to pay our respects to this new federal officer. I will give 
a reception on that day and invite the gentleman to attend. 
I will invite a few^ others to make everything agreeable. Sit 
down and help me make out the list." 

The reception was set for 10 a. m. and a good many car- 
riage loads of gentlemen were there on the hour. General Mc- 
Cook and all his officers, in full uniform, received them and 
made them welcome. 

The general had brewed one of his famous punches. Those 
McCook punches besides being wonderful to the palate were 
loaded down with character. They looked innocent as lambs 
and harmless as doves on the surface, but in their depths lay 
coiled serpents as potential as cobras. Of course the first thing 
was to drink the health of the president : then to the memory 

21 



314 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

of the hero of New Orleans ; then to the army of the United 
States ; then to the flag ; then to the governor of the territory. 

Evidently the new surveyor general had never found any 
such beverage before and this was not only wonderful, but free. 
Within fifteen minutes he volunteered to make a speech. It 
was cheered vociferously and he made another. Then his 
health was proposed and drunk with irrepressible enthusiasm 
and so he made a third speech which broke down party lines 
and Democrats and Republicans were all brothers. 

In forty-five minutes after his arrival he was asleep under 
the table and the expression on Stanton's face was something 
delicious to see. Mr. Barratt acknowledged his obligation 
to him. 

When the kaiser's brother, in his journey around the 
world, reached Salt Lake, he stopped off for a day's rest. His 
attendants were a count and a baron. I think that Stanton 
had received a request from Washington to make their visit 
as pleasant as possible. As a representative of the army he 
met them and did what he could for them. The prince had a 
cold, and Stanton had Dr. Allen or Dr. Hamilton visit him 
and advise him not to go out in the night air. 

Thereupon, when the prince was disposed of, Stanton took 
the count and baron to the Alta club. The gentlemen of the 
club did what they could to make the night pleasant for the 
distinguished guests. About 2 a. m. the major escorted them 
back to the hotel. It was cold and sloppy weather, I think in 
February. It had stormed during the evening, a half rain 
half snow down-pour, and the sidewalk was slippery and far 
from dry. Reaching the hotel the major said the count 
insisted on sitting down on the sidewalk and as he did so he 
remarked : "I haf been der vurld around und like Salt Lake I 
finds nottings." 

With a proper expression of sorrow the major told me of 
it the next day, and admitted that it was bad, but added that 
it was impossible to do the great German empire and emperor 
too much honor when their representatives came to this 
country. 

llie above gives a faint idea of the joyous side of General 



GENERAL TllADDEUS H. STAXTOX. 315 

Stanton's character. Tliere was a boyisli side to him wliich 
never grew old. but his inner nature was that of a hero and 
statesman. Could more than one recent candidate for presi- 
dent have heard him for half an hour discuss the principles 
upon which this g-overnment of ours was founded, tlie vital 
points which were to outline what should be. with proper lim- 
itations, beyond which neither legislators nor executives might 
go : how representatives were but to execute the people's wiM 
and how they were to be checked if they attempted either exper- 
iments or usurpations beyond that ; how the civil power mu:-t 
always dominate up to the point of actual war ; how until that 
point should be reached both the army and navy were as much 
subject to the civil authority as the humblest citizen ; how 
patriotism did more to make a man a good citizen than all 
the schools, and love for the flag was not only a duty but an 
inspiration : those candidates would no longer advocate some 
things which they have advocated. 

He went from Salt Lake to Denver and finally was sta- 
tioned in \\'ashington. D. C. as assistant paymaster general, 
and with the coming of the Spanish-American war became pay- 
master-general. 

The work he performed then was marvelous. He had the 
regular and volunteer armies to look after, a thousand stations 
from Porto Rico to the Philippines to take care of and keep in 
order, and when his work was critically analyzed, not one error 
on his part was found. 

He was retired shortly after the war closed, and a little 
later died. He visited Salt Lake some half year pre\ious to 
his death. He was the same Stanton, though he had aged 
much, and it was clear that he had not long to live. 

There was all the old exquisite humor, the same joyous 
])ersonality ; the same old love for friends; the same clear 
instinct of right and wrong: the same devotion to native land: 
the same reverence for the flag — the same invincible, irrepres- 
sible spirit, the same high heroic soul. He lived the perfect 
citizen and soldier, and if his spirit was questioned in the 
beyond, he was able to answer : "It was a little rough down 
there at times, but if you will look, you will find that my books 
every night showed an exact balance." 



COLONEL WILLIAM MONTAGUE FERRY. 



O 



NE of the strong men that for a quarter of a century 
helped to give direction to the thought and the pohtical 
history of Utah was Col. W. M. Ferry. He came of 
a sterling race. His ancestors emigrated from France to 
England and then to Massachusetts. The original Ferry in 
this country, at least to which any date attaches, was Charles 
Ferry, who took the oath of allegiance to the government of 
the Massachusetts colony at Springfield, in 1675. 

Colonel William Montague Ferry was a child of the fron- 
tier, having been born at MichiHmiackimal, Michigan, in 1824, 
when Michigan was practically a wilderness. He was the 
eldest son of Rev. Wm. M. and Amanda White Ferry. The 
elder Ferry was a Presbyterian clergyman who went to Mich- 
igan as a missionary. He was a devout Christian; but he be- 
longed to the Church Militant, not as a fighter, but as one with- 
out fear. Before he moved there to begin his work, he sailed 
with two Indians in a canoe around Lake Michigan, over 
to Chicago, when it had not a thousand people, and up to the 
beautiful site now occupied by Milwaukee. 

Then he took charge of the Mackinaw mission, and for 
several years maintained it. 

It was there that Colonel Wm. M. Ferry was born. In 
1834 the elder Ferry, with his little family, removed to the 
present site of Grand Haven, Michigan, the family being the 
first white settlers of Ottowa county. There Colonel Ferry 
grew to manhood. That fact alone is sufficient to make clear 
that there is nothing of savagery or hardship on the frontier 
that he did not learn while yet a boy to accept as a matter of 
course. 

His educational advantages were such as the frontier 
could furnish. When a child he was taught to write and 
cypher in sand boxes, such as were in use in the Indian mission. 

Colonel Ferry's father's experience in college was a hard 



rOI/)XF.T. WILLIAM MoXTACl'I-. I-F.RKV. 317 

one in workincr liis way and he did not wisli it repeated l)y his 
sons. Rut he was a teacher himself, and had a fine hbrary ; 
then two eccentric men came to Grand Haven and eacli had a 
clioice library which they united and to this the hoy had per- 
petual access. One season he spent in Massachusetts anfl there 
attended the Sanderson Academy, then in charge of Henry L. 
Dawes, who later was Senator Dawes of Massachusetts. 

After he was twenty, young Ferry nearly lost his life in 
tryins: to save people on a stranded ship, and being- through 
this unable to work, he was a year in Kalamazoo College, 
standing high in his class. From childhood he was an insati- 
able reader. All his life, at home or on a journey, if his pockets 
were searched, a book, generally a classic, could be found. The 
frontier itself with its loneliness, its lakes and forests with their 
manifold voices is a pretty good school to thoughtful boys. 

Once he ran upon a pompous clergyman who gave away 
the fact of his dense ignorance every time he opened his mouth, 
but he knew a few words and phrases of Latin, and these he 
was prone to unload on any audience. Tired at last. Colonel 
Ferry one day told him that it was an accomplishment to speak 
a foreign tongue, but dangerous unless the speaker knew the 
roots of the language. Then said: "Hear me!" Then for 
five minutes he hurled imprecations at the man. wdiich were 
enough to cure him of his habit. The language used by the 
colonel was high-class Chippewa. 

j\.s the colonel grew up he mastered the trades of a 
machinist and engineer. His mechanical genius w'as a gift. 
All his life if anything was going wrong in machinery in mo- 
tion, he would detect it in a moment by the sound, or rather 
bv the want of rhythm in the sound. 

Because of the floods of water encountered in the Ontario 
mine at Park City, Utah, it was found necessary to install a 
great Cornish pump. It was a massive affair intended to keep 
the mine drained to a tlepth of 1200 feet. It had been running 
but a few days when Colonel I'erry drove past in his bugg\-. 
The great engine was knocking badly. The colonel was an 
old man. but he stopped his buggy, and calling a man wdio hap- 
pened to be outside the works, bade him tell the engineer that 



318 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

he wished to speak to him. In a moment the engineer came to 
the buggy and said: "What can I do for you. Colonel?" 

"•Nothing for me," was the reply, "but why do you not 
stop the knocking of that engine?" 

"I have racked my brains over that until I am getting rat- 
tled," said the engineer. "I have tried water and oil and a 
dozen other things. I have begun to think there is a spirit in 
that cylinder that is knocking to get out." 

"There is no elasticity in oil or water," said the colonel, 
"but there is plenty of it in air. Bore a hole about the size of 
a gimlet into the cylinder two or three inches from the cylinder 
head on the exhaust end; the air will make a cushion that will 
serve as a bufifer and should stop the knocking." 

That done, the spirit must have escaped through the 
hole, for there was never any more knocking. 

The colonel had hardly finished his education — of mind 
and hand — when he became noted as a skilful draughtsman, 
engineer and inventor. He was given several patents for his 
inventions. In 1856 he was elected a regent of the University 
of Michigan, which place he held until he went to the war. 

The previous year he had erected the Ottowa Iron Works. 
a large foundry and machine shop, near Grand Haven, and 
was engaged largely in the manufacturing of steam engines, 
stationary and for lake boats, his own saw mills which revo- 
lutionized the sawing of timber in the old northwest, pro- 
pellers and all kinds of machinery. 

In 1851 he married Miss Jeanette Hollister. and perhaps 
had he searched the world over he never could have found a 
woman so gentle and tender, so serene under trials, and yet so 
strong and steady-minded as the wife he married. Surely not 
one who could have so steadied his impetuous and sometimes 
imperious nature. His business prospered; he was gaining in 
the estimation of men ; the world was bright before him when 
the call for soldiers came in 1861. 

He was in politics an aggressive Democrat; he had 
grieved exceedingly over the election of Mr. Lincoln ; all his 
life he had heard his father preach peace and good will ; after 



COLOXI'L W ILl.lAM AlOXTAGUE FERRY. 319 

a hard childhood and boyhood peace and plenty had come to 
him. and hope was beckonin.f^ him on to fortune and fame. 

But there was duty. TTad not his grandfather and grand 
uncle fought side by side through the Revolutionary war? 
Had not his father come to Michigan when it was but a wil- 
derness, bringing little save a Bible in one hand and a rifle in 
the other and with these entered the mighty wild to subdue it? 
Behind him was an ancestry that whether they knew much of 
the Bible or not. did know how to handle a gun. And now his 
native land was assailed, its integrity was threatened : its flag 
had been fired upon. He did not hesitate a moment. He 
entered as a private in the Fourteenth Michigan Infantry. He 
was in the hell of Pittsburg Landing; at the siege of Corinth: 
in all the battles of the Army of the Tennessee; then having 
been promoted through all the grades to a captaincy, he became 
an aid to General McPherson in General Grant's army, was 
wounded at Vicksburg. and when he was exulting over the fall 
of that stronghold, his younger brother Xoah was dying a sol- 
dier's death on the red field of Gettysburg. 

\A'hen first promoted to his captaincy. Colonel Ferry, by 
direct appointment of President Lincoln, was assigned sub- 
sistence commissary. Early in 1862 he made a report, making 
clear the lamentable condition of the soldiers in field and hos- 
pital, owing to the lack in the regular army rations to provide 
for the wounded and sick, and condemning the sutler sys- 
tem as a robbing of the soldiers. 

General Rosecrans approved his report, but was |)Owerless 
to inaugurate a remedy, and told Captain Ferry that any one 
attempting an innovation would be summarily dismissed from 
the service. But because of his sympathy for the suffering 
men and because he knew that he was right, the captain 
assumed the responsibility, ordered from the north, on gov- 
ernment account, what he wanted, and introduced a commuta- 
tion of rations, through which, in lieu of such portions of the 
regular rations as soldiers did not desire, they could receive 
such other articles as were needful for their health and com- 
fort, limited to the prescribed cost of the regular rations. 

His first monthly report to the subsistence department at 



320 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

^^^ash^ng•ton, containing' full explanations of what he had done 
and was doing, w^as emphatically and absolutely condemned. 

To this Captain Ferry replied more fully, explaining the 
need of the change, pointed out that the results were most sat- 
isfactory and reminding the department that the innovation 
involved no extra expense. His plan received no formal sanc- 
tion, but it was not forbidden, and so was continued and soon 
became an unwritten law. After the close of the war it crystal- 
ized into a rule in the department and was finally approved by 
Congress, the sutler system abolished, and now officers and 
their families, soldiers in rank and hospital may select any kind 
of rations they desire within the cost of regular rations. 

Immediately after the fall of Vicksburg, with its garrison 
and the Federal army of ninety thousand men in a region that 
had been laid waste. General Grant ordered Colonel Ferry to 
provide at Vicksburg as he had the previous year at Corinth, 
such additions to the rations as the health of the army required, 
and "any needed luxuries" for the soldiers in the field and 
hospitals, and General Tecumseh Sherman, after Corinth, said 
to him : "Ferry, you have left your mark in the army, and it 
will stand to your honor as long as the United States has 
an army." 

After the death of General McPherson, and the promo- 
tion of Captain Ferry to the grade of lieutenant-colonel, he was 
ordered by General Grant to proceed to Memphis, Tenn.. to 
take charge of the receipts and disbursements of army supplies 
for the armies of the South and Southwest. His responsibili- 
ties there were very great, but he found time to write regularly 
to Harper's ^^''eekly and occasionally to the Chicago Tribune 
and other journals. He also wrote up his own experiences in 
the army with a view of publishing them. He was a terse and 
accomplished writer, while his absolute truthfulness shone 
out in every line. 

His perfect mastery of the French language brought him 
offers of honorable and lucrative positions abroad, but he 
declined them. 

His reinembrances were never completed, nor published, 
because of an accident. His headquarters in Memphis were in 



COLOXKL WILLIAM MOXTACL'l- FI^RRV. 321 

the Bradley block. The buiklinsf was filled from basement to 
roof with army supi)lies. some of them, like barreled pork, very 
heavy. The buildinj^' had been weakened by taking^ out par- 
titions, and there were whispers that it was unsafe. 

The colonel had but just left the buildinj^ when ii weiu 
down in a crash that shook the city. The Bradley block was 
■-imply a ruin. 

All the colonel's manuscripts were lost. It was a threat 
pity. His book could not have failed to be most interestino". 
His "Guardins^ Rebel Property" was translated into many lan- 
.Sfuag^es. 

While the colonel was in Memphis an inspector was sent 
there from Washino-ton to straighten out some irref,mlarities. 
but he never troubled C')lonel Ferry. Y'^ars after the war the 
inspector and the colonel met at an army reunion, when the 
inspector said: "Colonel, do you know why I did n >'. investi- 
erate your business in Memphis? On the back of my instruc- 
tions the department had written. 'Let Ferry alone. He's 
straisfht.' " 

When the war was over the colonel with an honorable 
dischars^e. returned home. Perhaps no returnin-^ soldier 
ever had a more joyous home-coming than he. lie went away 
a private soldier: by his worth alone he had won his way 
through all the grades to lieutenant-colonel : the war had 
lirought out all that had been incomplete in his nature: but 
he returned as he had gone away, a Christian gentleman, and 
Jeft'ersonian Democrat. 

To receive him were wife and children, his aged, heroic 
father, his brothers, one perhaps the brightest in the family, 
the other soon to enter for several terms the United States 
senate, and his friends, which included most of the population 
< if Michigan. 

He remained there fifteen years, was tendered many high 
"tfices and filled a few of them, notably all school offices, and 

delegate helped to form a new Constitution for Michigan. 

Then his mining interests called him to Utah. Four .sons 
Aud two daughters had been born to him; the sons died when 
children, but the daughters still remain. Mrs. .Allen, with her 



?>22 AS I REAIEAIBER THEM. 

mother in Park City, Utah, and Mrs. George Hancock in Salt 
Lake City. 

In Utah he was quickly recognized as the masterful man 
that he was. He became greatly attached to the state, espe- 
cially to his mountain home in Park City. Only one thing- 
disturbed him. He reached Utah just when the clashing be- 
tween the government and the Latter-day Saints was approach- 
ing a climax. 

The colonel, a trained soldier, an American to wh(^m his 
country was all in all, could hardly contain himself in the situ- 
ation that existed. AVhen discussing it. he would sometimes 
s])rino- from his chair, and pace the floor, and his walk was that 
of a tiger in captivity. 

But he w^ent about doing good and trusting in God. He 
with his brother carried on a most complicated mining business 
which finally, four or five years prior to his death, culminated 
in a competency for him. 

His home life was something beautiful to see. Some 
three or four years prior to his death his eyes failed him, and 
he became almost totallv blind. Then his loved ones became 
eyes to him. All that devotion and loving solicitude could 
do was done for him. \r\ the family devotions, he loved to 
lead, with his fine tenor voice, in the singing, and his family 
learned to guess his mood bv the character of the hymns he 
sang. 

He had long been feeble in health. His faltering heart 
was his notice that his end was near. 

Li the winter of 1905 he was seized with an attack of 
grippe, and on the 3rd of January, he sank into a quiet sleep 
and awoke beyond the stars. 

After impressive services at his home in Park City, his 
body was taken to his old home in Grand Haven, and after 
still more impressive obsequies, he was laid to rest in the beau- 
tiful cemetery there, the murmur of the waters of Lake Mich- 
igan being a lullaby to the sleeper. 

At his death the Loyal Legion of the United States issued 
a militarv order which was a noble eulogy of his life and 



COLONEL W 1LLL\M MUXTAdLL LLRRV. 523 

character. The press of L^tali and Miclii.o-an q'avc him notices 
which were all fine. 

What lie had. what he was, he wrouj;"ht out f<~)r himself. 
He was gentle in his ways; he drew those near him to his 
heart with hooks of steel ; his resolute soul never lost its perfect 
poise : he was sure that a clear brain and a healthy body were 
sufficient capital for anyone. With these he began his battle 
for a place among men, and won it ; won it. too, in a w^ay that 
carried no self-reproaches. Every day of his life he was 
ready, if called upon, to make a full accounting. 

When the war came, he hurried to the front. He re- 
mained there until the lips of the last cannon grew still. He 
was in the forefront of that wonderful array of officers who 
were the executives of those greater soldiers. Grant. Sherman. 
Thomas, IMcPherson and Rosecrans. 

The war did not change in the least the man. save to in- 
tensify his high character. He became as eminent in peace as 
he was in war. 

He was a Christian gentleman. In the world he never 
feared aught except his God and the possibility of doing 
wrong. 

He walked higli-souled and self- respectful through life. 
He believed in the omnipotence of labor and worked until his 
eyes failed him. As his sight grew more and more dim. the 
vision of the greater light of the beyond grew brighter and 
brighter around him. and while the new year's greetings 
were ringing joyously, the light suddenly went out. and he 
passed to the everlasting day. 

W hen around his own fireside, the colonel w^ould some- 
times, in a reminiscent mood, tell old war-time anecdotes. Two 
or three are given below. 

"A bunch of us officers were once during the war invited 
to dinner at a private southern home. After dinner, to enter- 
tain us. the ladies of the house sang several songs with piano 
accompaniment. Finally "Maryland. My Maryland" was sung, 
and then a discussion arose about the origin of the tune, the 
ladies and some of the gentlemen claiming that the tune, like 
the words, were Southern. The colonel said thcv were mis- 



324 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

taken about the tune, that it was an old hymn. When this was 
contested, the colonel said : 'But I will prove it,' and nodding 
to one of the officers, said, 'Lieutenant, play nie the accom- 
paniment ;' then, in his superb tenor voice he sang the hymn 
through, which shut off further debate." 

At one time the Army of the Tennessee was encamped 
for a good while on both banks of the Tennessee River. It 
was the habit of the bands of several regiments on Sundays 
to play jollv music of every kind. This was a great distress 
to the chaplains, and to all the religious men in the army. It 
was most offensive to Colonel Ferry, and he went through the 
army making personal appeals to the band masters. The next 
Sabbath morning's dawn was most beautiful. The sky was 
sapphire and a great hush was on the air. While many of the 
soldiers were still asleep the clear notes of a bugle rang out on 
the still summer air. a full regimental band playing softly an 
accompaniment. The air played was. "Praise God from whom 
all blessings flow^" 

As the music ceased there was a moment of absolute 
silence ; then the band of another regiment with more power 
took up and repeated the anthem. 

Soldiers came out of the tents to listen. Very soon both 
banks of the river were lined with listening men ; as one band 
after another joined in the solemn but triumphal hymn. 

The waters of the river seemed to be bearing along the 
sacred melody; then human voices joined; then regiment after 
regiment took up the strain, and soon every division of the 
superb army, as with one acclaim, was singing. From that day 
until the encampment was broken up, only sacred music was 
played on Sunday. 

The colonel went to Central and South America in 
1888-89. 

Bishop Scanlan of Salt Lake tendered him letters of 
introduction, which generally had the effect of a safe conduct 
for him and his party. One Padre to whom one of his let- 
ters was presented, read it and then said : "I see you are 
not of our faith, but I know of no reason why I should not 
serve vou. We are all traveling toward the same countrv." 



COLONEL WILLLAM MOXTAGLL FERRY. 325 

Generally the utmost kindness was extended., but when 
they reached the port of Pacasniazo, an officer stopped them 
and took them before an alcalde. The colonel and his party 
were in a hurry, and the colonel looked over the alcalde, went 
near him and in a low voice said, "We are in a hurry, and 1 
ha\e one hundred good reasons to show you why we should 
not be detained." 

"In that case," said the doughty magistrate, "it would be 
better to come with me to my private office." The colonel went 
and soon came out with a flowery passport to travel anywhere 
within the jurisdiction of the court. I asked one of the com- 
pany what the reasons were, and he gave me to understand 
they were Peruvian silver dollars. 

The same member of the company — a Utah-born boy — 
told me that when their little coast steamer entered the port of 
Paita it was just about sundowm. The whole company had 
grown weary of the Spanish "jabber," none of them had seen 
an American for months, but there, right before them, lay the 
Trciifoii — which went to pieces on the rocks under the beatings 
of the hurricane in Samoa harbor, the band playing as the ship 
was sinking. The Trenton was a beautiful four-masted frigate, 
and she was rising and falling on the swell as gracefully as a 
swan. The marines had been drilling, the yards were alive 
with, men, the sun was aflame over the flag, and the band was 
playing a national air. With full heart I was watching the 
scene, when Col. Ferry came on deck from below and caught 
sight of the pageant. Off came his white hat. For five minutes 
he waved it, shouting like a Comanche, jumping up and down, 
and tears coursing down his face. 

If, where the soul of the colonel has gone, the standard is 
not the Stars and Stripes that soul will join the progressives 
and demand a new deal. 



COLONEL WILBUR F. SANDERS. 

Ar^IASTERFUL man was Colonel Sanders of Montana, 
and perhaps for forty years did more to shape events in 
that state than any other one man. When he reached 
there in the early sixties the region was almost wnthout law. 
and desperate men were in control. 

Colonel Sanders took his life in his hand and went abont 
to snbdue the lawless and to establish order. The decent peo- 
ple rallied to his support and the transformation was made. To 
do this it was necessary that a few of the worst of the ruffians 
should be hanged, and that duty was cheerfully performed. 
The transformation being made, the work of putting the re- 
gion in order for the coming of full enlightenment was begun, 
and there has never been any break in its upward wav since. 
except for a brief 'time when ambitious men were fighting for 
place by methods which were calculated to demoralize, rather 
than uplift the people. 

Through the forty or more years of Colonel Sanders' life 
there, no one ever doubted his power or discounted his influ- 
ence. If he did not have all the honors that were his due. no 
one was to blame but himself. His soul was as imperious as 
ever was Caesar's, and his tongue was, perpetually firing 
poisoned arrows. He was tall and large and swarthv. and 
when excited his eyes were flames and like Job's war horse, his 
"neck was clothed with thunder." 

Nevertheless he was a most genial man, and while as 
proud as Lucifer, he had not a trace of false pride. A finished 
scholar and fine lawyer and with talents that made him well- 
nigh invincible, down deep his thought was that the highest 
call in this world was that of duty, and that no man was so 
poor or unfortunate that he was not entitled to justice. 

He was not always right, but he always meant to be 
right. There was no compromise with him. Everything must 
be either right or it was all wrong, and when aught trenched 
upon the right, with liim there was nothing to be done but 



COLON FJ. WILIUK l'. S.\XUi:kS. 327 

crush the wron^. As all men cannot see alike, this disposition 
on his part made him enemies, but they all admitted that he 
was a fair fiq-hter. He was passionately fond of Montana. 
He felt that the character of the mag^nificent state was in part 
his work, and he was as jealous of the state's reputation as of 
his rtwn. He wanted every man within its borders to be 
hrave and every woman fair. 

He was a wonderful speaker on tlie hustings, and there 
his fashion was to discomfit his opponents with an irony at 
which no offense could be taken, but which convulsed his hear- 
ers and annihilated opponents. 

He was as loyal to his country as to his state, as jealous 
of its honor, and its flag- was to him the symbol of absolute 
justice, truth and enlightened liberty. 

When Montana entered the Union he was one of its first 
United States Senators, and served with great benefit to his 
state, with great honor to himself. The east is prone to look 
askance at senators from new states. In their eastern prov- 
incialism they assume as a matter of course that much that is 
crude and not quite refined must be expected from such 
sources. One glance at Wilbur F. Sanders was enough to un- 
deceive such people. He looked as high-born as a king, and 
when he opened his mouth the shrewdest of them all sat up and 
took notice. 

A fatal malady kept him at home for several years prior 
to his death, but he never for a moment lost interest in all 
public matters and he worked at his profession to the very end. 
Fstimating men we often compare one wit'i some other man of 
national reputation. That cannot be done in Colonel Sanders' 
case. In his bearing he was what Roscoc Conkling might have 
been had he when a youth pushed out on the frontier for 
half a dozen years. But I never knew any western man that 
much resembled him. His was a type of manhood most rare. 
1 believe that what he coveted most in the world was the love 
fit his fellow-men. but not many could discern this unless 
brought close to him. He would stoop to help up a poor man 
who had fallen, but he would not have doffed his hat to Julius 
' I'sar unless Caesar had >et him the example. His home was 



328 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

a most happy one; his grandchildren could work him in every 
way they pleased, and his last word was one of endearment to 
his wife. 

Could he have been g-iven his health ten years longer, his 
name would have been as familiar in the nation as it was and is 
in Montana ; but his call came just when the fruition of his 
hopes seemed to be taking form in a setting of glorv before 
him, and without a murmur he accepted his fate. On the day 
of his funeral, a Montana paper said : 

Men of Montana ! Bare your brows today. 
Stand at salute before the open grave 

That waits to gather to its arms the clay 
Of him who was the bravest of your Jarave. 

He was the most potential figure among the strong men of 
his state. For years he was looked up to by a majority of 
them as their uncrowned sovereign, and the saddest act of 
their lives was to smooth his final couch, and to repeat above 
him their all hails and farewells. 



JOHN Q. PACKARD. 

WllliX i knew him first Mr. Packard was a merchant 
m Alarysville, Cal., in 1852. He was born in New 
York City, was trained and educated there in the cir- 
cle which later blossomed into "the Four Hundred." Before 
I knew him personally I had seen him and noticed that he was 
the best dressed man in the little city. His measure was doubt- 
less in New York, and he was not only dressed in perfect taste, 
but in perfect taste every hour of the day. But the rains fell 
and the floods came, and on Christmas day a part of the 
city was under water, the other part deep in mud. 

Still Christmas had to be celebrated, so a band of yung 
men — there were no old men there — gathered together and 
engaged Seymour Pixley, who was six feet three in height 
and slim, to play the fife, and little Grubb — I cannot recall his 
given name, who was about five feet four in height, but tall 
east and west, to play a bass drum ; the whole company wore 
high miners' rubber boots, and some other clothing. They 
formed a procession, the fife and drum leading, and marched 
from one saloon to another. \Vhen a saloon would treat the 
whole bunch, they would give it three resounding cheers. When 
a saloon declined to be generous it received three sepulchral 
groans, and this continued from 10 a. m. to 4 p. m. 

And Packard was the grand marshal of the procession. 

The next morning he was clothed in his habitual perfect 
attire, and was in his right mind. Moreover he looked fresh 
and ruddy as a bridegroom. 

Later I got to know him intimately and early formed an 
idea that he was a man who went into confessional with his 
conscience every day, and balanced his books by it every 
night. But he never stopped to question his conscience as to its 
own status ; never took time to remember that the compass 
of a ship may seem to be perfectly adjusted, and still some- 
thing in the ship itself may cause it to vary, so when the 

22 



330 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

ship's course is set by it. all unexpectedly it goes smashing 
into the breakers. 

There was a little variation of this kind in the compass 
of Mr. Packard's soul, so he was at times a trifle eccentric, 
and had collisions which were a surprise to himself. 

He was wonderfully wrought up when the Coxie army 
started on its march. He had never relied upon anyone save 
himself and could not comprehend how any healthy man should 
directly or indirectly beg in a land like ours. 

For a long time he had been noiselessly contributing to 
maintain a certain church in Salt Lake City. No one knew it 
but the pastor of the church. As the army neared Salt Lake, 
just as Packard was most furious about it. he met this pastor 
on the street, who greeted him with, "Oh, Mr. Packard, what 
can we do for these poor men ? Where can they go ?" 

At the top of his voice Packard shouted : "Let them go 
to h — 1 !" And strode on leaving the good pastor paralyzed 
with astonishment. 

Mr. Packard made a fortune in Marysville and removed 
to the east. 

At the close of the war he went South and bought two 
plantations, one in Mississippi, the other just over the line in 
Louisiana, and started to raise cotton. 

Soon after his going there news came that the cholera 
had reached America and was devastating the eastern cities. 
Packard took the first boat for New Orleans, consulted an 
eminent physician as to the most approved treatment then 
known for cholera, bought a great chest of medicines, and with 
it returned home. It was not long until the disease began its 
march through the south, and one afternoon a man came by 
Packard's house and said a negro on a neighboring plantation 
had been stricken. Mr. Packard, with holsters filled with 
medicine, mounted a horse and hurried to the sick man's side. 
For several days he was physician to all who were seized by 
the pestilence until he finally came down with it himself. He 
went through all its stages until he lost consciousness in a col- 
lapse. He came to himself the next morning and asked his 
foreman what had been done to pull him through. The honest 



JOHX (J. PACKARD. 331 

man replied : "The case was desperate. Mr. Packard, so I 
doubled the doses on you." 

But cotton was low. and the atmosphere of Mississip])i and 
Louisiana just after the war was not congenial toward north- 
ern men. even northern Democrats like Packard. So Mr. 
Packard sold out. or more correctly, abandoned his home there, 
and started for California. 

But reaching Salt Lake he was attracted bv the reports of 
tlic Eureka mine in Tintic district, and bought the control of 
it. He had practically no knowledge of quartz mining. Init 
he had exhaustless pluck and industry; he made a great mine 
of his purchase, and a great deal of money; later opened 
the Cemini and made more until his fortune mounted up into 
the millions. 

LTe built the fine school building at Eureka, the beautiful 
library in Salt Lake and another in Mar\-sville. where he made 
his first fortune. His home for twenty years was in Salt Lake. 
In all that time he sought no honors for himself; comparatively 
few people knew him ; he never had any family, but during 
the last ten years of his residence there, with the beginning of 
every month more than one family received a check from him 
which was equal to the family's needs. He removed to Santa 
Cruz. California, about 1900. and engaged in business there, 
pursuing it wMth all his old-time energy until at about eighty- 
five years of age his summons came. He was one of the very 
-truncr nien of the West. 



COLONEL A. C. ELLIS. 

BORN in Kentucky, a University and Law School grad- 
uate, he was district attorney in St. Louis when the 
war came on. He joined the Confederate army and 
fought until the Confederate arm was broken in Missouri ; 
then made his way across the plains and settled in Carson City. 
Almost at once he took his place in the ranks of finished law- 
yers. Later he was nominated for governor, but was defeated 
because in those days Nevada was strongly Republican. After 
practicing his profession for ten years, he removed to San 
Francisco, where he pursued his profession for ten years more, 
always up in the front rank among lawyers. Removing to 
Salt Lake City, for twenty years he maintained his place 
among the leaders of his profession until his health failed. He 
died in March, 1912. 

His great charm was the high manhood that always was 
his. His great and varied scholarship and superb conversa- 
tional powers with his ever-sanguine temperament made him 
delightful company everywhere. But for the war he would in 
ten years more have secured for himself any desired position 
in Missouri. As it was he was one of the thousands of young- 
men in the south whose hopes were shattered' by the war, and 
whose after lives were always shadowed by the thought of 
what might have been. He was always genial and kindly; he 
tried his utmost to conceal the scars of the wounds his soul had 
received ; but they were manifest enough to close observers. 

A tree blasted by a thunderbolt often puts out new 
branches, and with every spring tries to hide its scars under 
green leaves ; but it is never quite the same tree, no matter how 
bravely it meets the tempests ; how uncomplainingly it bears 
its ancient wounds. 



RICHARD MACKINTOSH. 

Tliii tears dim my eyes as i look back and remember 
Ivichard Mackintosh, as he was wont to come out of 
liis house in the murnini^- and with a voice cheery as 
a lark, as corchal as the robin, liail the (kiy. 

He h"ved many years in Salt Lake City. Those who 
knew him well loved him exceedingly. He was born in Dub- 
lin. Ireland. His father was a distinguished officer in the 
British army. a captain in the famous Xinety-third Highlanders. 
He was one of the Mackintosh clan, who, on that day of days 
at Waterloo, followed the pibrochs through all the long hours 
until Blucher came and the exhausted English army fell on the 
ground to sleep. 

After the war, every year, so long as Wellington lived, 
on leave of absence that father left his command and went up to 
a ban(|uet given by his grace, the Iron Duke, and the titles 
he won. the decorations he wore, are a glory to the Mackintosh 
family in any land where they dwell. 

After Waterloo the father of our Alackintosh was sta- 
tiiined in Dublin with his regiment. There he fell in love with 
a l)onny Irish girl and married her, and there Richard Mack- 
intosh was born, only a few steps from Phcenix Park. And 
so in his nature he had much of the cannv Scot of his father, 
much of the splendor and joyousness of his Irish mother. And 
as such we knew him. 

He was originally intended to succeed his father in the 
army, but for a slight physical defect he was not accepted, 
and we do not believe it is any harm to state what that defect 
was. One side of Mr. Mackintosh was a little smaller than the 
other. His arm was smaller, his foot was a little smaller, and 
the laws of England in their crude way assumed that this was 
a defect, when in truth one side was just as strong as the other, 
and he was fashioned like the one-horse shay — "every part as 
strong as the rest." 

What 1 write about Mr. Mackintosh is sim])ly fi'om my 



334 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

own memory, and if other people who knew him do not agree 
with all I sa}-, I will hold the belief to m}- soul that they did 
not know^ him as well as I did. I knew him only as a frank, 
splendid, high-souled, thorough man, and thorough American, 
and a friend that was more sacred than all the jewels of Arabia, 
all the professions of professed friends in all the world. He 
was a good friend, and whenever I wanted a joyous word, a 
note of defiance at fate, a lark's song to awaken me from the 
cares that were upon me, I always tiu'ned instinctively to 
Dick Mackintosh. 

So he plodded his way. When he lost money he made no 
plaint ; when he made money his voice was all the higher, his 
cheer all the greater, his disposition to do somebody a favor all 
the more increased. 

In the queen's diamond jubilee year he went to England 
and attended the fete. When he returned he was telling about 
what he saw in his joyous, boisterous way, and especiallv 
about the fleet that was anchored off Spithead, when miles and 
miles of guns roared out their welcome to the queen. I asked 
him how the Brooklyn looked in that outfit, because our gov- 
ernment had sent the Brooklyn over there in honor of the 
queen to represent the American navy. AVith almost a shout 
he said: "She was splendid. She lifted her crest up among 
those blasted English ships with the flag above her as much as 
to sa)', 'Look here, Mr. Englishman, we are here in state. We 
like your old queen, but we would fight just as quickly as any 
one of your black devils down the line.' " 

To the end of his days he was a true Britisher, but after 
he had been a little while in America he would have fought any 
Englishman on earth if he had made a face at the American 
Flag. 

He was one of the Comstock boys. He got to the Com- 
stock when he was but little more than a boy. He made the 
long trip around the Horn and he had several fights on board 
ship. The last one was in behalf of a little girl that he declared 
was the prettiest girl in the world, at the time, adding, "That 
was before I was married." 

He got to the Comstock when it was a great school for 



RICIlAkI) MACKINTOSH. 335 

all Britishers. He learned how to deal in stocks and that be- 
came a habit with him. He clung to it all his life. He removed 
to Salt Lake. He was prominent in mining for many and 
many a year. He made good, but he was more prominent as 
a citizen, as a neighbor and a friend through all those years, 
and he wound his heart-strings around the heart-strings of 
others until when it came time that they should be torn apart, 
it made a new wound which never has been healed in those 
who remain. 

He was called before his time — just in the pride of his 
splendid manhood. His own home had been desolated bv the 
death of his wife, and after that he drooped and drooped and 
what of the old jollity came back at intervals was but a forced 
attempt not to make his sorrows a sorrow to others. He 
failed for a year and then died, and when he passed awav it 
was a solemn joy to say about him that he was the truest 
friend, the kindest-hearted, strongest man. the bravest cham- 
pion of what he thought was right, the best neighbor, that any- 
one ever knew and that thought still remains. All that was 
really fine in manhood was his and if he lacked aught in the 
manifestation of his real nature, that was a misfortune, be- 
cause the nearer one got to Richard Mackintosh the more thev 
esteemed and loved him. He was a brave man. of that stock 
of men who held it was nothing to die for one's country or for 
one's honor: that germ was always working in his own mind; 
and if he made any mistakes it was because for the moment 
he was deceived, for deep in his mind he was one of the finest 
examples of absolute loyalty and high courage of all the men 
who in the old days helped to make of Utah a glorified Amer- 
ican state. 



WILLIAM S. GODBE. 

BORX in England, he visited half the world's ports as a 
youthful sailor, with a student's eagerness to revive 
the histories and to study the modern conditions of the 
people. Returning to his native land, he heard a new gospel 
expounded, investigated it and believed it was a new materiali- 
zation of what the Master taught. 

He worked his w-ay across the Atlantic and traversed the 
continent mostly on foot to Salt Lake City, believing that there 
the regeneration of mankind was to begin. 

With the enthusiasm of an earnest youth he began his 
work: intense in his religion; intense and untiring in his labor, 
and worked on and on until the whole territory recognized his 
masterful abilities, his business acumen and lovable nature ; 
and he became a favorite from the highest chiefs of the new 
creed down to the lowliest toiler, until he was looked to every- 
where as a support, from the inauguration of a great enterprise 
to the founding of a little frontier church. 

But all the time he was studying; all the time was asking 
himself which way Duty led? 

■ Every night he went into confessional with his own con- 
science, until through weighing what was being said and done, 
the conviction came to him that while religion implied sincere 
service to God, still all men should be free to do any legiti- 
mate thing. 

Indeed this had been transmitted through the blood of 
his ancestors since before that June day in 1215 when the 
great charter was wrenched from a sullen and vindictive Eng- 
lish king. 

So, when fully convinced, he declared himself. This 
brought to him a summons to show cause why he should not be 
excommunicated. 

He responded ; proclaimed his love of Ciod and of his fel- 
low-men, and cited the record of his own life to prove his sin- 



WTLIJAM S. r.ODWE. 337 

cerity and trntli. and defended what he was doini^ as rij^ht in 
the eyes of God and enh'^litened men. 

He was expelled, but that did not change his his^h nature. 
Vov awhile old friends passed him coldly by, which grieved 
him. but awakened within him no vindictiveness. NeitliLM' 
I lid it change liis pm'pose. 

His fortune was shattered, and he was repudiated in 
places where he had been so much esteemed. He turned to the 
solemn mountains for sympathy and sui)port. and thence for 
thirty years opened mines and roads; built mills and furnaces: 
toiling- without rest, but keeping his heart open to anv crv of 
distress; bearing no malice toward men; but to the last pro- 
claiming the love of God and the brotherhood of man; his 
path lined everywhere with charities and good deeds, until he 
finally died, literally in the harness of labor. 

He was a man who believed he was created in the image 
of God : that nothing from him must mar that image ; so he 
toiled on. his soul shining out more and more until when the 
tabernacle that held it fell away, and it took its flight, it was 
reflected back, high and brave and true and white as a planet's 
lio-ht. 



GENERAL ALEXANDER McDOWELL McCOOK. 

HE WAS one of the fighting McCook family. His 
father and brothers, six of them, if I remember rightly, 
died in the war from wounds or disease. His brother 
Anson was shot in Mississippi by guerrillas, while, badly 
wounded, he was being conveyed in an ambulance across the 
country. General Alex. McCook always held Anson as the 
great man of the family. They were indeed a fighting family. 
The old father, past seventy years of age, was killed in trying" 
to repel Morgan's raid. 

This special family were all Ohio men, and often in the 
late hours of a banquet General Alexander McDowell McCook 
would assure his fellow banqueters that he, personally, was 
the d — t best Presbyterian that ever came from "Yaller" 
Creek. He was a West Point graduate, and when the war 
came he was assigned, a general of volunteers, to Gen. Don 
Carlos Buell's army, commanding his right wing. As is well 
known, a part of General Buell's army reached the battlefield of 
Pittsburg Landing at dusk after the first day's tremendous 
battle. It was there that General Buell said to General Grant : 
"Did you not take too big a risk. General? A big river in your 
rear, an army of unknown strength in your front, and in case 
vou were defeated only two little gunboats to carry your army 
across the river? Why you could not have crossed more than 
40,000 men on those boats." 

And Grant replied : "They would have been ample to 
cross all that would have wanted to cross in case I had been 
defeated." 

The regulars of Buell's army joined Grant's army on the 
second day's stubborn battle, which lasted until 4 p. m., before 
Beaureguard's army was finally routed. McCook's corps 
reached the field about the time the final retreat began, and 
General Sherman wanted McCook to pursue the enemy, but 
McCook pleaded the fatigue of his men. General Sherman 
never quiate forgave McCook for this. Shiloh was a real 



GENERAL ALEXANI)i:iv' Mcl)( )\\ l-.El . McCOUK. 339 

l)iinctuation point in tlie war. Had (ieneial Albert Sidney 
Tnhnston lived four hours long-er. what might have been?? 

Had Grant who was after that battle practically retired, 
well-nigh dismissed, indeed, never been restored, what might 
have been ? 

Had the attack been made a day sooner, when Buell was 
M) far away to help, what might have been? Surely **God 
iioves in a mysterious way Elis wonders to perform." 

General McCook. with his single corps, fought and \von 
the battle of Perryville. General Buell. with the main army, 
was three miles away. The battle began about 1 p. m.. the 
iibject of the Federals being to hold possession of a stream, of 
the Confederates to gain possession of it. The battle lasted 
two hours, and the fighting was most sanguinary, but not a 
sound of it was heard by the main army only three miles away. 
When a messenger finally reached General Buell. he hurried 
'•' the scene, received from General McCook's lips an account 
'\ what he had done, at which General Buell w^armly praised 
him for his splendid generalship. 

\\'hen the command went to General Rosecrans, General 

McCook retained his corps and took part in the furiou-^ battle 

f Stone River. At Chickamauga the corps was rolled back, 

;iN was the entire army, except the corps of General George 

H. Thomas, "the Rock of Chickamauga." by the fierce onsets 

f Bragg's army. 

After Chickamauga McCook was detailed on official busi- 
ness in Washington, where he remained for more than a year. 

McCook was in command five years at Fort Douglas, in 
Utah. He was a most thorough soldier, the most genial of 
men except when the authority of the United States was 
•ubted : then the soldier was at the front in a moment. And 
he had some eccentricities. It was the custom in the summer 
for the regimental band to give public concerts every afternoon, 
and it became a habit for people of the city to drive up to the 
post to listen to the music. Some distinguished ladies and 
gentlemen from the East were present one afternoon, and were 
l)resented to the general. One of the ladies praised the perform- 
ance of the band warmly and expressed the hope that it would 



340 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

play a certain piece of music which she named. The general 
at once sent word to the band-master to play the piece. He hft 
his place, went to where the general was and explained that 
the music desired was unusual and difficult of performance, 
and further that he had no copies of the music. The general 
ordered him to the guard-house for not having the music, 
but finally rescinded the order upon the lady's earnest solicita- 
tion in behalf of the unfortunate musician. 

The general was wont to give receptions at the post, and 
many a Salt Laker remembers those receptions with much 
pleasure. The general and his officers, always in full uniform, 
received the guests who were royally entertained. McCook's 
punches still have a local reputation and name in Salt Lake 
City. 

His domestic affections absorbed his life. His first wife 
died soon after he reached Salt Lake. The foremost ladies of 
the city gathered at the hotel where she died and tendered 
their services, but he put them all gently aside, and would not 
permit one of them to even see his wife's dead face until he, 
unaided, had prepared and dressed her body for the grave. 

Before he left LItah he married a second wife, a most 
l)rilliant and accomplished lady. He was ordered to the com- 
mand of the Department of the Platte, with headquarters at 
Denver, Colorado, and remained there until retired through the 
age limit. 

While stationed in Denver a Salt Lake friend went there 
to attend a three or four days' convention. He reached there 
after nightfall, and stopped at a hotel. The next morning as he 
went down to the office, the General, with an orderly, was in 
waiting. After the greetings were over he asked for the key 
to the friend's room, which he had in his hand; took it, looked 
at the number, and extending the key to the orderly said : 

"Go to parlor , get all the baggage that there is and any 

other little thing that you see, and take it to my rooms." 

Then turning to the friend, he said: 'T want you; come 
along." 

They drove to the hotel where he was living, went straight 
to the elevator and up to his rooms. Opening the door he 



(iEXEKAL AIJ-.X.WDI'K MoDOW i:i .1. Mcl'OOK. 341 

-ihjvcd ilie fricntl in and said: "My wife is back in Wisconsin 
visiting her mother. You shall have her bed. It is the finest 
bed in Denver, and now come here." He led the friend to 
a desk and opening it, said : "There are half a dozen bo.xes of 
the finest brands of cigars this side of Havana. And now 
nnr.e here until I show you the 'Todder Stack." And open- 
ing a cabinet he displayed some ominous-looking bottles of 
\arious colors. *'Xow," said he. " I am going to watch you; 
and if you spend a cent while in Den\er. T will have you court- 
martialed." 

Every morning he would prejiare the l)ath. and then, as 
though talking to a reluctant boy. would say: 

"Come. No growling this morning. Jump up and have 
your bath. "N'ou have no idea how much better you will feel to 
have a Iv^t bath and a cold shower. This cold water comes 
right out of the snow, and you will see it will feel just as ice 
cream tastes." 

When the Spanish war came he grieved exceedingly, and 
said : 

"I am retired for age. and that is right, but 1 was never 
Iietter physically or mentally, and T do know better than some 
younger men how to take care of soldiers in camp and field." 

A little later he was in Ohio visiting friends, wdien he was 
seized with apoplexy, and in a few hours his soul went to 
join his old comrades of the Army of the Cumberland, the 
.\rmy of the Tennessee — all the royal souls that when the life 
of the nation was at stake interposed their breasts between their 
countrv and their cnuntrv's foes. 



E. H. HARRIMAN. 

MY acquaintance with Mr. Harriman was limited to a 
few meetings in social gatherings where little save 
polite nothings were spoken. Hence there is nothing 
before me save his personal appearance and the impression his 
work made. 

He was small of stature with a kindly but shrewd face ; 
Init as one looked at him and heard him greeting the people 
around him, he carried the impression that even in that moment 
grades and curves and other difficulties were being overcome 
in his mind and possibly purposes were taking form. 

With him such meetings were put down merely as a gen- 
eral might receive a flag of truce — they had no bearing upon 
the plans of his campaign. 

He had many of the elements of a great soldier. He 
knew when to mass his forces around a base ; he knew when 
to break away from his base, divide his command ; how to 
make rapid marches and when to concentrate at a given point, 
\vhich necessarily included a knowledge of what was opposing 
him and how, if at all, it would seek to intercept his march. 

To me his face showed a fixity of purpose which, when 
reached, it would be almost impossible to turn aside, and a 
silent patience which would hold a post until the garrison 
starved. 

But he kept masked that other something which may be 
termed a subtle sagacity which must have been lighted by an 
artist's imagination, which enabled him to see instantly that a 
transformation was due and then in his mind picture what that 
transformation would bring. 

The old Central Pacific Railroad Company always treated 
the region between Reno and Ogden as worthless, and the 
road across it merely as a bridge, over which the through 
business was to pass, the freights and fares on which must not 
only cover the cost and profits, but in addition must meet the 
expenses of operating the whole line. 



E. H. HARRTMAX. 343 

Tlien, too, its object seemed to be to subordinate all busi- 
ness to the building up of San Francisco. 

The Union Pacific Company seemed impressed by a like 
idea except, with it. the thought apparently was to minister 
{<) Omaha. Neither company ever realized the wealth of 
the empire it possessed, and neither ever handled its road 
;^ a common carrier. 

The result was that wlien the bonds finally fell due they 
ave up their property, which they had permitted to depreciate 
' value until it consisted of litt'e more than a streak of rusty 
I eel and a right-of-way. 

Then ]\Ir. Harriman appeared upon the scene. He seemed 
to take in at a glance the resources along the route of roads, 
^cemed to hear "the first low wash of waves where soon would 
roll a human sea;" seemed to note what was being done in the 
mines, and what mines, especially base metal mines, were to 
transportation companies who had their patronage; to see the 
wonders wrought when the desert was touched with moisture. 

He rightly estimated that the great Central route ter- 
minating on the Bay of San Francisco must always be of vast 
concernment to the world; just as readily and swiftly he rea- 
- )ned that the road to be effective must be placed in as perfect 
condition as possible ; that unnecessary grades and curves 
must be eliminated, knowing that speed and safety must always 
be chief factors in operating railroads. 

It may be said that any business man would have reasoned 
the same way, yet some very shrewd men on both ends of the 
line had possessed the road for thirty years and had not rea- 
soned that way, but apparently had thought that the true theory 
was to exact everything possible from the road and its patrons 
and to do as little as possible for the road. 

That Mr. Harriman reached his conclusions quickly was 
clear enough by what he did, but that his conclusions, once 
formed, were fixed with him was made evident some years later 
when, in a trial in court, the fact was brought out that on his 
first coming West he began to purchase and put away the stock 
of the roads, sure that after awhile they would advance in value. 
We think it would be impossible to find a parallel to his work 



344 AS I RE^IEAIBER THEM. 

in recreating the old Central and Union Pacific and the Oregon 
Short Line roads. 

What Mr. Harriman did for the roads along their 
entire length resulted in making certain for all time that San 
Erancisco was to be the foremost city on the west coast of the 
United States. The old companies worked for a special objeci. 
Mr. Harriman for an absolute result. 

As he did not fail to grasp the wealth of the desert, neither 
did he fail to realize what California w'ould be when eastern 
methods were adopted on her lands. An empire as great in 
area as all New England, New York and New Jersey com- 
bined, with soft climate and marvelous soil, up to his day pen- 
etrated by only two railroads, and defended by a mighty ram- 
part of mountains. 

He noted that the east was occupied ; that in addition to 
the natural increase of the people, half a million foreigners 
were pouring into the country annually, and that they must 
have employment ; that failing to find it east, they must go west. 
So he improved his roads and built additions and witli serene 
trust that in the end both his judgment would be vindicated, 
and the money expended would he returned. His methods of 
overcoming physical obstructions were seen in the building of 
the Lucin Cutoff and the driving back of the Colorado within 
her banks. 

In the early days of the construction of the Panama canal, 
when the difficulties of the undertaking were being much dis- 
cussed, the magnitude of the work was referred to in Mr. 
Harriman's presence, when he said: "If such an obstruction 
should come in the path of a well-organized railroad company, 
there would be no noise made about it : the company would 
just go to work and overcome it." 

His ability to command needed funds to carry on his work 
is a theme for financiers to discuss. The public only saw that 
when they were needed they were forthcoming, and that all 
his promises were made good. He was a general in marshal- 
ing both his forces and his finances; he was a statesman in 
foreseeing- the efifects that would follow certain causes, and 



K. II. 1I.\I>:RIMAX. 345 

there was a poet's liiythiii in the lianiKniy of his work from 
inception to conclusion. 

He had, too, the faculty of drawing men to him. All his 
lieutenants were devoted to him. 

He sprang into the arena pitted against financial gladiators 
and industrial kings ; he was unknown to the financial world ; 
in a few brief years his summons came to give up his work, 
hut in those few years he accomplished more than any other 
man ever did along the same lines in a period so brief. 

Contemplating his work one wonders what would have 
l)cen could he have retained his strength for another decade. 
W hat he really accomplished was but preliminary work. Who 
can estimate what achievement he held in contemplation? 

His name will outlive all the friction of the future. It 
still clings to the roads he manipulated ; they continue to be 
"The Harriman" roads; indeed his name was one to conjure 
by and his w'ork seemed to be ever smiled upon by that angel 
called Success. 



23 



HON. O. J. SALISBURY. 

MR. SALISBURY was born and educated on the shore 
of Lake Erie in New York, a few miles from Buffalo. 
He was early tossed on the frontier, and was first 
known in the west as a contractor on the Linion Pacific road 
when that road was under construction. 

When the Star Route Stage company was organized by 
his brother Monroe and J. T. Gilmer, he was the office partner 
and had the direction of the details of the company. It was 
he who had to see that the stages ran on time, that the stock 
had to be at the right place at the right moment, that the horses 
were fed and the drivers fed and paid. This he had the adminis- 
trative ability to perform apparently without effort, though he 
was carrying in his mind day and night the whole machinery 
of the business, which was extended over half a dozen states. 
His work was that of a commander who handles the details of 
half a dozen armies, and on him rested the responsibility of 
making no mistakes. 

He was stationed for a time at Deadwood ; there with 
clear judgment he secured mining interests which are still pay- 
ing steady dividends ; and when the staging was crowded out 
by the encroaching locomotive, he went to Bayhorse, Idaho, 
securing the great mine there. Without much previous knowl- 
edge in the reduction of rebellious ores, he built smelters and in 
two years made another fortune. 

A\'hat that means no one who has not been through a 
h'ke ordeal and won out knows. 

The vigilance required, the details to be anticipated and 
provided for; the ground to be studied and its faults met; the 
reserve strength needed to work when other tired men are 
asleep; the patience and the nerve to wear a smiling face before 
employees when the burden reaches almost to the breaking 
point; to meet and oust all the guards which nature has sta- 
tioned to conceal and hold her treasures, until the very moun- 
tains are melted into obedience and the stars above smile ap- 



liUX. O. J. SALlSBLin'. 347 

proval ; then to find and conquer the rebellious elements which 
are hidden in the ores ; to do these things when a hundred miles 
from any transportation save the crudest, and to do them in a 
wav that will leave a profit, are problems that a thousand men 
liave failed to solve to every one man who has succeeded. 

Mr. Salisbury had the business training to meet this, but 
the more difficult i)art he was obliged to learn while the work 
audits inexorable demands were in progress. He succeeded ; and 
while it was going on an insidious disease was preying upon his 
vitality in a form which the physicians could not arrest, and 
which in a few months would have killed him, except that the 
accidental coming of a great specialist from abroad and 
who was taken to see Mr. Salisbury by his local physician, 
saved his life. This specialist, after a long practice in a great 
foreign city had never seen but one similar case. The resolu- 
tion which under such a weight bore up Mr. Salisbury until he 
made the great business a success, showed the nerve that car- 
ried on that fight. 

Tie bought a home in Salt Lake City in the eighties and 
lived all the rest of his life there. He was active in politics 
from the first ; he did more to build up his party than perhaps 
anv other man. He was long national committeeman and as 
-iich perfected the organization of his party, and by the will 
iif his party would have been elected United States senator. 
had not a fatal illness come upon him. 

In private life he was a quiet but most genial gentleman : 
in his home a most devoted hu.sband and father and as winsome 
I host as ever received a friend under his roof. 

He had great plans for Utah when his honorable ambition 
-hould be gratified, but it was not to be. 

His summons came too early, and the great grief is that 
when his friends sorrowingly laid him at rest, not one in a 
hundred of them had any comprehension of how strong and 
true and high-souled was the man they were saying their 
farewells to. 



HON. GEORGE W. CASSIDY. 

A GREAT George was he. In the late fifties he ap- 
peared in Dutch Flat, California, fresh from Missouri, 
then little more than a boy. But like the others from 
his state, he wanted to be shown. He became a reporter on 
a little newspaper there, and soon made a name. He was an 
inspiration to the people there to raise the funds to enable T. P. 
Judah to make his preliminary surveys for a railroad over the 
Sierras. 

He drifted early to Nevada and found a broader field for 
his local pen. Shorthand writing was not known then in news- 
paper work, but Cassidy was a wonder as a reporter. He 
could sit through a long speech and then write it up for next 
morning's paper in better form than it was generall}' de- 
livered. He showed me one of these speeches as he had re- 
ported it, remarking: "I believe I have improved that old 
duffer's speech." 

I suggested that he may have had an advantage that pos- 
sibly the speaker might have been handicapped by conscientious 
scruples, to which he replied that if that had any weight it 
would be hard to improve any of my speeches. 

He was chaffing with a friend one day when he cried out : 
"Oh, let up. If you keep going I shall lose my reputation." 
To which the friend responded : "If you could it would be the 
making of you." To this he said : "Maybe it would," sat down 
and laughed until the tears ran down his cheeks. 

He worked on the Virginia City papers, growing intellec- 
tually constantly; went from there to White Pine, when the 
Eberhearst mine was found, and after a couple of years estab- 
lished the Sentinel at Eureka, Nevada. 

He was soon elected to the legislature and served with 
honor several terms, growing to be a first-class debater. Then 
an appreciative constituency sent him for two terms to Con- 
o-ress and he held his own there and did much for his state. 



HON. (iEORGK W. CASSIDY. 349 

lie was given the position of bank inspector, and scrxcil 
witli qreat credit in the office for several years. 

While making a speech at a state convention in Reno 
he was seized with heart failure and in half an hour was 
dead. He died in the prime of life, but he knew every man in 
Xevada ; he was a poor man but always had a dollar for an 
ini]iecunious fellow citizen and excused himself for beinq^ 
cauo^ht so often by explaining that it was cheaper to give up a 
dollar than to wait to hear a tale of woe, and then would add : 
"And maybe the poor devil really needed it." 

He made a name from nothing and grew intellectuallv 
fiMin the day he landed in California to the day he died, and 
counted confidently on the belief that the highest was vet to 
come to him. 

He was a mighty worker, no one ever saw him in bad 
humor for more than a minute at a time ; he was the most genial 
man that ever looked misfortune in the face and laughed it 
to scorn : he was one of the most genial of men and his death 
was too soon by a cpiarter of a century. 



COLONEL GEORGE L. SHOUP. 

ONE of the manliest of men was Senator George L. 
Shoup. He was a natural captain of industry; a far- 
seeing business man and a manager of men. But he 
was early tossed upon the frontier ; then came the war of the 
rebellion. He at once raised a regiment and with it was ap- 
pointed to take care of the restless white men and the untamed 
savages of Colorado and New Mexico. He soon established 
the fact that he was of right the leader of those he commanded, 
for he was always to tli^ front when a fight was on, and gained 
the reputation of being always in the right place and doing the 
.right thing at the right time. 

When the war was over, accounts of rich gold discoveries 
drew him to Waho. At that time Idaho was almost an abso- 
lute wilderness. 

He located up on the Salmon River and around him grew 
up Salmon City. There he lived with his trading post and 
farm, but the personality of the man asserted itself and for 
all that region he may be said to have established public 
opinion. 

He helped to frame the territorial government, was the 
first governor and always a directing force in that government, 
and when the territory took on the dignity of statehood, while 
there were doubts who would be the second senator, there was 
no doubt who would be the first, for George L. Shoup was the 
choice of his party and those opposed to him politically con- 
ceded his great worth. 

He served twelve years in the senate. He carried his level 
head to the senate, and the scholars quickly realized that his 
judgment on all practical questions was clear and strong, and 
the manliness of the man made him welcome on both sides of 
the august chamber. 

Every interest of the west found him a guardian, and still 
his patriotism was bound by neither state nor section lines; he 



. COL. (iEORGE L. SHOUP. 351 

wanted every foot of soil under the tla<^- dedicate<l to freedom 
and every man and woman and child happy and prosperous. 

I le nursed no animosities as he clunin" to his own opinions, 
he judi^ed his own heart, and conceded tliat every other man 
was as free as himself and had the same ri,G:hts. 

He was shrewd in business, but there was never a cry of 
distress that he did not at once respond to; he was the most 
hospitable of men and the magnitude of his unostentatious 
charities grew faster than his fortune. 

Never was there a more s^enial man, and he had very 
much such a nature as Tole j2;"ives to Hercules, "he did not 
wait for a contest, he conquered whether he stood or walked, 
of sat, or wdiatever thing he did," and" the impression he gave 
was that "he was appointed bv Almightv God to stand for a 
fact." ' ^ • 

If he lacked some refinements, still the solemn mountains, 
the irresponsive desert, the liardships, the privations, the dan- 
gers, had made their marks upon him and he had the refine- 
ment of a chastened brave man, which caused many a more 
cultured man to realize that God gave heroic and generous 
attributes to some natures long before there were schools and 
l)Ooks in the world, and such men hnd their, places by natural 
^election. 

He helped lay the foundations of two states. He helped 
to make Idaho the great state it is, to shape the character 
of her people: he long represented them with honor in the 
-enate of the United States; before that he had been proved 
a wise and sagacious governor, and for all time the men of 
Idalio should hold his memory sacred, for he helped first to 
redeem that soil from barbarism, then to see that the founda- 
tion of the state were rightly laid and for a long period in the 
-cnate through his own lofty character gave distinction to the 
-late he represented. 

His grave is a hallowed spot in the soil n\ the state he 
helped to create, and should be kept dressed with flowers always 
by a grateful people ; dressed \u dowers and looked upon as a 
shrine. 



HARVEY W. SCOTT. 

HARVEY SCOTT was born in Oregon when Oregon 
liad not emerged from pioneer and frontier conditions. 
He came of that heroic stock which in the early 
forties in the central Mississippi valley gathered together a few 
belongings and with ox-teams turned their faces to the west 
and never rested until the awful march of twenty-five hun- 
dred miles was completed. They found where rolls the Ore- 
gon and planted the first stakes of civilization beside the AVilla- 
mette. I know of no other achievement in history to compare 
with that. The retreat of Xenophon has been ringing down 
the stairs of history for three and twenty centuries, and it was 
a great exploit, but his march was not so long as was that of 
the Oregon pioneers ; then his command was made up of trained 
fighting men and while he had much fighting to do, it all was 
against inferior races that with inferior weapons could not 
stand before the trained veteran Greeks, while all the way food 
was plentiful. 

But the Oregon pioneers blazed a trail for quite two thou- 
sand miles of their journey, and half of that was through a des- 
ert, so bare that it must have seemed to them a region from 
which the smile of God had forever been withdrawn. 

Harvey Scott was from birth endowed with the impres- 
sion made upon his parents in that march. He was a kindly 
man and could be most genial, but left alone or in uncon- 
genial company he was wont to lapse into silence and his face 
took on what might be called a long-distance look, such as his 
mother might have worn when trying to catch a glimpse of a 
land of grass and flowers and trees beyond the desert that en- 
compassed her. 

He early found a newspaper ofiice, and began to write. 
It was not long until he became an editor and then for forty 
years he pursued that Avork, with a patience that was sublime, 
with ever-increasing power and with more and more solici- 
tude for the glory of Oregon and the welfare of her people. 



11AK\ I;N W. SCOTT. 353 

His environments were narrow at lirst ; the\' were bounded 
by the boundary lines of his state; they expanded until they 
took in his country and the whole world beyond. He began 
when schools were scattered and poor in Orcjc^on ; from the 
lirst his journal presented a course of study for the state; to 
the end he was the state's great schoolmaster. Born with a 
thought that everything must be either right or wrong, at 
lirst some unconscious ])rejudices took form under his hand; 
these, as experience and a broader vision came to him. began 
to be eliminated until his sense of duty to his readers, coupled 
with his incorruptible integrity, finally assumed full sway. 
Then his journal, the Orcgoiiiaii, took on its full i)ower and 
did more to shape public opinion in Oregon anrl to lift up llic 
minds of her people than any other one cause. 

His journal that at first was but a little red schoolhouse 
by the roadside expanded until to his people it became a mighty 
school of enlightenment and patriotism, a daily uni\-ersity 
course in integrity and wisdom. 

T never think of the battleship Oregon that T do not think 
of Harvey Scott. On an urgent call the ship rounded a con- 
tinent in unparalleled swift time, without resting took its place 
in the battle line, and when the supreme call came, rushed in- 
vincibly into the very \ortex of that storm and never slackened 
its speed, never faltered in power until the last opponent was a 
shattered wreck. 

If inanimate objects ever take on character, the battle- 
ship drew its character from Harvey Scott. 

Oregon will never appreciate w^hat it owes him. That his 
final summons came while he was yet in possession of all hi- 
faculties and all his power, has been a grief to thousands, but 
for the sake of his memory and his fame maybe it was best, 
for surely it is better to see a great ship go down in the hour of 
victory with flags flying and victorious trumpets calling, than 
to watch it growing weaker and weaker until, dismantled, it 
becomes a target for envious guns. 



SENATOR WOLCOTT. 

THE stormy life of Senator Ed. Wolcott of Colorado wore 
itself out before its time. Gifted beyond his fellows, 
handsome, winsome, impulsive, impetuous, imperious, 
reckless, undisciplined, a born leader, a born fighter, subtle as 
a serpent, eloquent, high-bred as a Greek master, implacable 
toward enemies, enchanting to friends, magnetic, audacious, at 
home with Bacchus when in the mood, but ready to look Thor 
full in the face and challenge him to bring out his biggest 
hammer and try conclusions with him. A natural aristocrat 
by virtue of his lineage, his learning, his family's place in the 
nation's history and his own masterful abilities, but still a gen- 
uine American to the last drop of his blue blood, and especiallv 
reverential of the fact that when it comes to a question of coun- 
try and the direction of events all Aniericans stand on the same 
plane, all have a right to a hearing and the more especially 
that the aristocracy of a republic must rest on brain and heart 
alone. 

So, many sided, followed by troops of friends, winning- 
manifold honors ; always shadowed by bitter enemies, for 
twenty years he w-as more the concernment of the men of Col- 
orado than any other man — his comings and his goings among 
them were like those of Alercury to and from Olympus — "to 
witch the world." 

But he suffered one disappointment which half embittered 
his life. President McKinley sent him as head of a commis- 
sion to try to effect an international agreement to remonetize 
silver. France joyfully received him. An agreement w'as 
reached, then the premier of France accompanied him to Lon- 
don. Then Bond street and Wall street raised a protest and 
just at the crisis, Lyman Gage, then secretary of the treasury, 
cabled to London that the United States did not want remon- 
etization. That betrayal destroyed all chances to succeed, and 
ever after as Senator Wolcott thought what his success then 
would have been to Colorado, to the United States, to the 



SENATOR W'OLCOTT. 355 

world and to his own fame, he was outraged and comfortless. 

He is still passionately mourned in that state by those who 
loved him; even his enemies feel as did Earl Douglas when his 
passions cooled, and he said: "Bold can he speak and fairly 
ride." 

. He died young, comparatively, while yet wlicn his intellec- 
tual powers were at their height. 

Still, considering his life for thirty years in Colorado, he 
was eighty-seven instead of fifty-seven years of age. for in 
those thirty years he lived two years for every one. 

He aspired to the very highest honors that the republic can 
bestow : he had abilities that justified his ambition, but he, 
strong and controlling as he was. would never control himself; 
he Witched as he burned life's candle at both ends and con- 
templated calmly what would come when the two flames met. 

And still so winsome was he. so masterful, so brave, that 
those who loved him can not yet recall him as he was in life 
tliat his image is not quickly obscured by their tears. 



JOAQUIN MILLER. 

A "HEAD of gold, breast and arms of silver," but all the 
rest "potter's clay." A half savage chained to a star. 
His soul took in every glory of nature ; the hills, the for- 
est, the overhanging dome of the sky, the stars above, the boom 
of the deep-sea surges bringing, in an unknown tongue, mes- 
sages from far-off lands — all these were delights to him. The 
songs of birds always met a response from him, but an Indian 
wickiup suited him as well as a palace, and when in the deep 
night the scream of a complaining cougar came to his ears, he 
smiled and said low to himself: "We are in accord." 

A little more, and he would have been out and out a naked 
savage ; a little more the other way and the angels in heaven 
would have bent their ears toward the earth to listen to his 
melodies. Of the earth he was exceedingly earthy, but all the 
time the incandescent lights of his soul were shining through 
the coarse material and illuminating it. 

His courage, moral and physical, was superb. He could 
look any danger in the face and smile, and when the foremost 
men and women of the land knocked at his rude door, he 
received them with a grace as free from affectation as from 
apology. While he never felt above the most lowly, he never 
met a man whom he deemed his superior. He had a native 
savage pride which an earthquake could not have shaken. 

In his youth he accepted the sensual side of life, but at 
night from his bed on the ground, he had a wireless telegraphy 
which brought him messages from the stars. He transcribed 
some of these and their divinity cannot be questioned. Had 
his surroundings been more refined and had he learned a little 
discipline in his youth, who knows what he might not have 
achieved ? 

He lived his own way asking no odds of anyone, and 
without fear passed on. 



THE OLD COLUMN. 

AT TJMKS, as I recall sDiiie old names and the character- 
istics of the men assume distinctive forms before me, it 
is a joy to make a hasty record of them. But today 
ihey come in companies, come with the old elastic steps, the 
old joyous faces, until the air around mc is filled with echoes 
of their voices, and the oldtime joyous laughter, and the air 
is warmer because of trieir smiles. For the smiles were lighted 
from the fires of youth, which fires have perfect combustion, 
leaving no dross upon the earth, making no taint upon the air. 

Somehow, in life they seemed to be borne up with a belief 
that while it was true that other generations of men have lived 
out their span and gone into the silence: it was going to be 
different with them; that they had found the long-looked-for 
Ponce de Leon spring, the waters of which were to restore the 
waste of nature, the attritions of old age, the assaults of dis- 
ease : that each night was to bring them undisturbed rest, and 
that each succeeding morning would find them perfectly re- 
stored to hail the day as joyously as the lark and with no more 
apprehensions of evil. 

At least they lived that way. There was no work that 
could abash them: no risk they were not ready to assume: no 
danger that appeared in their path that could daunt them or 
turn them aside, and when a call came upon their charities the 
thought was, "Why should we not respond generously, for 
have we not unabated strength to create more?" 

When some one, overborne, fell out of the ranks and grew 
still, that mattered not. The explanation was that he always 
had been delicate, or that he never had taken any care of him- 
self, or if all the usual explanations failed, it was said that "he 
was out of luck," and then some primitive philosopher of the 
com])any would deliver an address and prove to a demonstra- 
tion that luck was a force in the world which could no more 
be fought back than measles or whooping-cough. And some 
near friend would explain that the ancient belief that the Fates 



358 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

watched which thread of life to sever with their scissors was 
true, anci what they did when a man became so much better 
than his fellows that their reckless ways gave him pain, was to 
mercifully bring peace to him, and so the death of such a man 
was not an event to weep over, but rather to chant a farewell 
joy strophe above him to be a lullaby for the long sleep. 

When from the outside world learned and accomplished 
gentlemen came among the band, and meaning to be genial and 
pleasing to hosts talked down to them, it always seemed to me 
a pity that no voice from the subconscious intellects of those 
guests could whisper to them to go slow ; that they did not 
know their audiences ; for who among the learned in books 
and those who have worn soft raiment all their days, can com- 
prehended what it is for thoughtful men to take their post- 
graduate courses in that great university, the faculty of which 
is made up of the ocean waves that break at the mountains' 
feet ; the winds that, coming up from the sea, make all the 
mighty pines on the mountain tops the harps on which to set 
their anthems to music ; the desert with its cold and heat, and 
when it sleeps under its pall of silence — that dreadful silence 
which is so profound and all encompassing, as though all na- 
ture had died — that the nerves of dumb animals break down 
under it, and they are stampeded ; when to tliose hunger, and 
cold and thirst and hardships are added as assistants ; when 
these earnest, generous natures feel the pangs as one hope after 
another dies in their souls, can the mere book scholar give such 
men any instruction to much interest them ? 

When a great calm for a long time spreads its winding- 
sheet about a portion of the earth, when the sun beats down 
until the world and the air become fetid ; then suddenly the 
elements arouse themselves and call up a cyclone or a hurri- 
cane to clear the air, which in its track leaves a trail covered 
with the wreck of forests and homes and sometimes dead 
men and animals. But the air is purified. Men who live close 
to nature take on some of its moods. 

What wonder, then, if sometimes sections of this old band 
would suddenly arouse themselves and paint things crimson, 



THE OLD COLUMN. 359 

-ivins: up to excesses and perpetra,ting episodes not to be ap- 
proved of by any Sunday School society in the world?. 
Tt was a way they had to clear the atmosphere. 

But let no one wonder if some of the native sons of Cali- 
fornia and Nevada are a little spoiled. It was the old bnnd 
that did it. 

And do not blame the old band. They felt one hope after 
another die in their souls, and bore it without plaint. They 
knew that their youth was about to fall off the trail and if the 
knowledge brought any sorrow to them they hid it in their 
own liearts : but every morning as they rose from their rude 
couches they felt the little fingers that were not to be tugging 
at their garments, and what wonder that when they came upon 
children they spoiled them ? 

What deeds of valor they performed ! What noiseless 
charities they bestowed! What self-abnegation atteufled their 
lives! What splendid industrial triumphs they wrought when 
they were obliged to adjust ends to means, and from the im- 
possible to wring victory I 

There was no place in their ranks f(^r braggarts or pre- 
tenders; they had to be shown; wi.th a swift intuition they sep- 
arated gold from dross and the seal of their approval was 
equivalent to a certified check. 

They were not all angels, but in their hospitality they 
assumed every time that they were entertaining angels, and 
had a real angel come he, at least, would have known that he 
was getting the best that his host could provide. 

For me that procession began its march three score 
years ago. 

I watched it changing year by year, watched it as ever 
and oftener one and another fell from the ranks, watched it 
until the radiant column shrunk to a straggling band, and of 
late have only at long intervals heard a footfall. 

But today, looking down the long aisles of memory, the 
mists are all cleared away from above the trail, and that pro- 
cession is again in view — the splendor of the beginning, the 
Hags, the trumpets, the joyous songs, the springy, exultant 
steps, their paths bathed in sunlight and ablaze with hope; the 



360 AS I REMEMBER THEM. 

march through the liot noonday, no wearying-, nc^ rest ; the 
the long afternoon march, and the bivouac under the stars — 
all the music grown still and the night wind sweeping up from 
the depths of the desert becomes a requiem. 

But through tlie silence there come whispers of a land 
in the Beyond; another land of golden mountains, clear 
streams, flowers and sunlit fields, filled with the love songs 
of bright plumaged birds, where the dawns, the sunsets, and 
the light of the stars are all merged in the greater splendor 
of the Eternal Day. 

THE END. 



3\71'^- 



